What Julia Said to George

source: ESQUIRE, December 2001, Volume 136, Issue 6

A significant portion of the total charm left in Hollywood joined us for lunch. Then we left it (them) alone with the tape recorder on. by Mike Sager

Julia: So, who's paying for lunch?

George: We'll pay for lunch.

J: You have to walk me to my car. It's so far away. I didn't have any money for the valet parking.

G: I'll spot you a coupla bucks.

J: I was scared that if things didn't go well, I'd have to ask for money.

G: You know you can always count on me.

J: Somehow, I don't feel all that relieved.

G: All right, let's see—an interview.

J: What are we supposed to talk about?

G: Let's talk about who we hate.

J: I'm not letting you get me into trouble. My girlfriend warned me. She said, "Do not follow George's lead. Do not let him lure you into being, like, all honest about how you really feel about everything."

G: Okay, fine. So who do you hate? Ah ha ha!

J: At the moment, I actually have too many to name. People are picking on me. Get off!

G: It always seems to happen when a movie's coming out. It's like you're forced to do publicity for the movie and so as part of that—

J: It adds some real flavor to the story—

G: And everybody piles on.

J: You know, after I was your girlfriend for a while, which was soooo much fun, I was back together with Lyle.

G: You were?

J: I was in Nashville. I was in New York. I was back in Las Vegas doing all these fun things. Next it'll be some soap-opera actor who's like seventeen years old.

G: Now that's a good story!

J: It's just the transparent meanness of it all. Yuuck.

G: It's funny. I've run into people who've written incredibly mean things about me, and they're like, "Hey, man! How you doin'?" And I go, "Hey, man, what? It doesn't work that way, pal!"

J: I don't take that shit. If you're gonna talk, talk to my face. Don't try to suck up after you've just shat in my kitty box.

G: All right, lemme think. What can we talk about that would be of any interest to the readers of Esquire?

THREE IN THE AFTERNOON ON A FINE, sunny, late-August day in Los Angeles. Julia Roberts and George Clooney are sitting across from each other in a corner booth at the Bel-Air Bar & Grill. An additional chair has been set, somewhat awkwardly, at the head of their small rectangular table. It is for me. George arrived first, pulling up on a vintage Harley-Davidson, the strap from his leather messenger bag slung roguishly across his chest like a bandolier.

He sports a sparse mustache and several days' growth of beard. Julia came a few minutes late, a bit frazzled, driving a rented silver Volvo. She's wearing minimal makeup, if any at all. She is dressed in a spaghetti-strap top, matching sweater, and very tight black stretch pants. Working together for the first time in the Steven Soderbergh remake of Ocean's Eleven, Julia and George became fast friends—a close, platonic confederacy that was erroneously cited in the press as the catalyst for Julia's much-publicized breakup with her longtime beau, Benjamin Bratt.

As we talk, it is still a couple of weeks before the events of September 11 in New York and Washington, and the word on Julia's love life is still what passes for news. For the past sixty minutes or so, I've been sitting with them over lunch, discussing their shared love for Soderbergh, their on-set antics, even Julia's special homemade mushroom galettes. Now as they settle in for dessert and cappuccino, I rise from my chair and replace it at the round six-top behind me. "I'm outta here, kids," I say. "The tape recorders are running. Don't ask anything I wouldn't ask, hear?"

J [to waiter, who is serving coffee and chocolate cake]: Are we allowed to smoke marijuana in here? Waiter: I won't complain.

G: You can shoot up, if it'll help the interview. You can do crack.

J: I figured that I'd just start with marijuana— W: Well, that would be much simpler.

G: Oh, boy! I can see it now. The marijuana part is going to be the main story. Trust me. That's gonna be the cover. It's gonna be a picture of you with a joint on your lip.

J [speaking directly into the tape recorder]: I don't really smoke dope. G: Did you smoke when you were a kid? J: I smoked dope twice. It made me too sleepy. It's not fun. I'm spending my life trying to have energy and stay awake. Why am I gonna do something to go to sleep?

G: I used to shoot marijuana. It was really different. It was hard to get it in the syringe. J: It must have come out kinda not too smooth.

G: It was very painful.

J: We could freebase.

G: Now, freebasing is fun! J: This is exactly what my girlfriend warned me about! What should we really talk about? We have this golden opportunity.

G: Why are you rolling your eyes?

J: George, you look thin to me.

G: I'm not. It's just the beard. It makes me look thinner.

J: No, it doesn't.

G: Does so.

J: No. It does not.

G: It does. I'm telling you.

J: I think your arms look thinner.

G: That's because I stopped working out.

J: No, you look like you've been working out, just not working on your arms.

G: We were in Italy for three weeks on motorcycles, all the boys.

J: The boys from all your stories? Those boys?

G: All of us. We got six Harleys in Italy, and we started in Lake Como, and we rode all the way up to St. Moritz, and then all the way across the Alps.

J: Was your ass sore?

G: No. Well . . . not from riding.

J: You remain silent?

G: We went through the Swiss Alps, the Italian Alps, the French Alps, and then down to St.-Tropez. And then through Italy.

J: I've never been to any of those places. I want to go on one of those trips.

G: Great!

J: I want to be, like, the pit girl. And I don't mean that in a Brad kinda way!

G: No, you mean a pit pit.

J: Yeah.

G: I don't think you wanna do that. I think you wanna have your own bike and be your own mama.

J: Gee, I hope I parked my car someplace that's a place one can park a car.

G: I'm sure it'll be okay. They probably won't tow it.

J: That's certainly reassuring.

G: Where do you usually stay when you're out here?

J: I'm staying at your house, of course.

G: Ix-nay on the ay-stay at the org-ay house!

J: Mmmmm! This cake is really good! I'm gonna shove some in my cake hole.

G: Okay. Next subject. Hmmmm. What has surprised you most about this business?

J: What has surprised you?

G: It's funny, but I always thought that when you get to a position where you can get a movie made, the scripts you get would always be good. But the truth is, a good script is very hard to find, period. That was a big surprise.

J: I know, because you feel like, somewhere in this high tower is a secret room where they keep all of the golden scripts.

G: And they're gonna open up the vault and—

J: And you see a golden beam of light.

G: Yeah, and something like The Hustler comes out and they hand it to you.

J: But instead they hand you crap and ask you to spin it into gold.

G: They say, "Make it look good."

J: Yep!

G: Who's the director you want to work with?

J: Wim Wenders.

G: He's great.

J: He just seems, like—

G: Interesting.

J: Really interesting.

G: Have you talked to him at all about doing anything?

J: Never. And there's another. A fabulous, fabulous, fabulous director—I can't think of his name.

G: Give me a movie.

J: Gallipoli. G: Peter Weir. J: Peter Weir!

G: You can't go wrong there. He's really good. Anybody you don't want to work with? Anybody who was rotten to you?

J: I think people who are rotten to me I really don't want to spend time with anymore.

G: There's a couple of guys who made me mad.

J: People who are mean stinkpots. I won't work with them. You think you could direct me? You think you could tell me what to do every day?

G: Yeah, well. I— J: You'd relish that.

G: Like we don't do it every night!

J: [Huge Julia movie laugh.]

G: Like when I go, "Not there, Julia, over here!"

J: Oh, my God! G: That's what makes me happy.

J: Oooh, Geooooorge!

G: Probably not. I probably would not want to direct you, I mean. We shot a screen test, and even that's weird. J: You're gonna screen-test me? I just can't read for a part?

G: No no no no no. Of course! I mean, we screen-tested some actors for a role. And it was very strange. Even though it's sort of a natural progression for an actor to direct, and even though I've directed before, in theater and stuff, it's very strange to act in a scene and direct at the same time.

J: I would think it's the weirdest.

G: It is weird. You're in a scene together with the other person, and you're supposed to be on the same team. But somehow, at the same time, you still have to sort of sit in judgment of their performance; you still have to give them notes. And that seems sort of unbalanced and wrong. It takes a lot of understanding between the actors involved.

J: Yeah, but don't you kinda do that anyway when you're in a scene with somebody? You're not consciously paying attention to what they do, but when they do something that seems out of place, you kind of go—you know, you kind of clock it.

G: It depends on the actor, too, though. If it's someone I'm intimidated by—

J: But how can you judge what you yourself are doing in the scene?

G: I can't. Except that as the director, I'm so much more familiar with the script than any of the other actors are. Like, with Steven [Soderbergh], one of the things he's so good at is that he's so in-depthly aware of the script. He knows what each of the moments needs to carry, not just for the scene to work but for the entire film to work. J: Mmm.

G: Actors tend to work toward a scene or toward a character. But when you're directing, you sometimes have to go, "All that is very nice, but right now you just need to deliver the fuckin' pizza." J: Right.

G: Not to deliver the pizza because your parents are alcoholics so you became a pizza-delivery boy. I just need you to say, "Here's the pizza." J: Exactly. And do you have a really good crew?

G: The best. J: Who's doing craft service?

G: Actually, unfortunately, I'm doing craft service, too. That was part of my deal. I'm directing and acting and doing craft service.

J: That's why you're so thin! J: How's Waldo, by the way?

G: He's really good. J: Is he on the trip?

G [speaking into the tape recorder]: Waldo is our pet name for—

J: Oh, God, George!

G: He's fine, thanks. He sure misses you.

J: Lemme see your driver's license.

G: I don't have it. Oh, wait a minute, yes, I do. I don't have a wallet. I lost my wallet. So I have just a stack of things. J: What's this bright green card?

G: ATM. J: Wow. It's so green! You need to sign it.

G: Here's a good picture.

J: Oh, my God! You look like a little boy.

G: I am a little boy there. J: When is this going to expire?

G: Um, soon, I suppose.

J: I hate to tell you this— G: I know, I know. I already got a new one.

J: You're so cute!

G: It's a nice look, isn't it? Are you an organ donor?

J: Absolutely. G: It seems like a no-brainer to me.

J: What organs are you gonna donate, George?

G: I don't really have anything I'm allowed to give away. J: Don't give away Waldo! G: Now, that's a major organ! [He dissolves into giggles.]

J: Do you know where your spleen is? G: Why? Do you think you hurt your spleen?

J: No, but I just found out where the spleen is. It's in such a different place than I had imagined. G: Where did you think it was?

J: Near the kidney, I guess.

AROUND THE CORNER AND OUT OF SIGHT, I've taken a seat at the bar, joining a waitress from the night shift who has stopped in early to try to catch a glimpse of George. She has brought along a girlfriend for support. "So what are they like?" the girlfriend asks. "What is he like?" asks the waitress. "He's very much like himself," I say. "Just what you'd expect. She's being pretty professional, but you can tell she'd rather be anywhere but here." "She's tired of the press?" asks the girlfriend. "I'd hate to have the whole world know every detail of my relationships," the waitress says. "What relationships?" the girlfriend giggles. "Shut up!" "What did they talk about?" "Well, let's see," I say, trying to recollect. "They had a great time making Ocean's Eleven. Especially Julia. She was the only girl in the cast." "Who's in it?" the waitress asks. "George, of course. Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, a bunch of others." In unison: "Ohhhhhh." "They had a lot of fun, apparently. Julia says she's 'the girl version of George.' " "I wonder what that means?" the waitress asks. "What else?" says the girlfriend.

G: Where do you live? You live in Mexico?

J: New Mexico. G: Near a big city?

J: I live in a really nice, quiet place. And I've actually been home for the past, well, almost six weeks. It's pretty weather. Nice beautiful rains every day. Rainbows— G: So you live high up, then. You're not down in the— J: Secret 73. G: Oh! J: Yep.

G: When we were on our motorcycles, we were at like twelve and thirteen thousand feet in the snow. J: Ahhhhhh! Really? G: We were up in the snow and we'd turn the motorcycles off, and then we would coast down the alps for an hour without having to turn the engines on, until suddenly it was 90 degrees and everybody's got their shirts off. It was wild, wild!

J: And nobody bugged you? G: Not so much. I mean, we went to Florence and ended up in the middle of the square where you're not supposed to have any cars. We got lost, and we got the motorcycles stuck in the middle. J: You mean, like, in front of the Duomo?

G: Yes, we were in front of the Duomo on our motorcycles, stuck. And these ladies are yelling at us. [He switches to an Italian accent.] "You have to-a-walk a tha bike-a." And I'm going, "Lady, these things are giant bikes. I'm not walkin' it outta here!" Um. That was embarrassing. So you have to pick the right places to go. But if you're out in the Alps, you got less problems. J: George, you do all the coolest shit! G: That's right. J: Do you ever just hang out at home?

G: All the time. I'm at home right now. I don't live far away from here. I'm eight minutes from my office at Warner Brothers. Last night I got home from the office at nine o'clock. J: I love you telling me this like I don't know. What time did you get home from the office, honey? G: Yeah, exactly. Well, it was right after I got Waldo cleaned up. J: [Hysterical laugh.] G: [Deep laugh, followed by a snort. He speaks into the tape recorder.] For the record, that was a snort. J [big laugh]: You know what the name of this article is going to be? In unison: Where's Waldo! [Gales of laughter.]

G: Oh, man. He's gonna kill us. J: You started it. J: No, you did! G: No, you did! J: No, I didn't! G: You started it. We can play the tape back. J [speaking into the tape recorder]: And that's not code for anything but playing the tape back. G: So, you don't have any other jobs coming up? J: I just want to, like, take a breath and, like, calm down some for a minute. I'm feeling a little too much like a Coca-Cola can. G: Huh? J: Shaken up and ready to explode!

G: Well, doesn't that always happen right after a movie opens? After all the interviews and the publicity and the selling and all the rest of it? J: I don't know. G: After a movie opens, I always feel like, okay, that's it: I'm never doing this again. J: I know that it's cyclical. It's like they have this big wheel, like the Wheel of Fortune but it's standing up, and they spin it, and it has all of our names on it. And they spin it and they go, Oh! George Clooney's up! Let's pile on him!

G: Yeah, but you had a different run because of all that's happened. You had Erin come out, and first of all, it's an incredible hit, you know, it makes a lot of money, both here and foreign. And then it becomes an Oscar race, which is bigger than just selling a movie. And then you've got all those awards shows—the New York Film Critics Award, the Golden Globes, all the rest—you've got to go to all of those things, so you're constantly in the public eye. And then there was that sort of very public relationship that became part of the focus, so you were constantly out there. And then you have another movie opening and a breakup, so it's just been one thing after another for more than a year now.

J: Um-hum, I know. [She groans softly.] I'm never going to talk about a man again for the rest of my life. G: It's a trick, isn't it? J: Well, I think I've learned not to say things that I'll live to regret—till today, anyway. G: [Giggles.] J: I think this past year or so has come as a shock. How I—where I sit, you know? G [long pause]: Meaning what exactly—where you sit? Meaning where you sort of fit in? J: Meaning that I'm famous. G: Right. Right! J: It's kind of come as a bit of a—as a bit of a blow, actually. G: Well, that's an interesting thing. It's funny. I was watching Ocean's Eleven. And there's this element that is difficult for people to understand about being as big a star as you are. It's hard for a leading man at times to hold his own against you, you know what I mean? As an actor, I think there are a lot of wonderful actors out there. But you sort of . . . you're so . . . you're Julia Roberts, you know? I'm glad that I got that forty or fifty minutes into the film to establish that I was in it.

J: Before the chick shows up? G: Yeah. It's a funny thing, but there aren't really big female stars anymore. There were in the forties. That's what drove the industry in the forties. Today, there are lots of actresses. But you—you're bigger than the male stars. And that hasn't been around for a while. It's been a male-driven industry for a long time. So it's really interesting to watch. We always talk about—you know, you and I have talked about it before—how there aren't real movie stars anymore, how they don't really exist anymore, how there aren't any Paul Newmans anymore. There are a couple now. There's you and Tom and a few others who are really just bigger than life. People have to take their shots at you because you're sitting on top. J: Which I understand, and I don't really mind. But I also think this whole movie-star thing—to be called a movie star in the forties was, like, beautiful and glamorous.

G: It's not a bad thing now. J [sighing]: What sign are you, George? G: Pass With Care. Ah ha ha! Soft Shoulder! J: Slow Children. G: I was trying to come up with that one. J: You're a Taurus? G: Yes, I'm a Taurus. J: That explains so much. G: Does it really? J: Uh-huh. G: Do you really pay attention to that stuff? J: Sure. [With a southern accent.] I'm the golden knight, George. G: Do you really, or no? J: Really. G: So what are you? J: I'm a Scorpio. G: Is that good? J: Well, yes. G: Do you check what someone is when you want to go out with them? J: The words if only spring to mind. G: Funny! J: I would never let astrology get in the way of a lovely dinner date. But there's one male sign of the zodiac that I just won't go out with. G: Can you say what sign that is? J: I don't think I should. G: Is it Taurus? J: No, daddy. J: I'm gonna ask you some questions now. G: Fire away. J: What are you, a 42 regular? G: 40 regular, baby. J: 40 regular. G: How tall are you—five nine, five eight? J: Five nine. Okay, so you're 40 regular. G: 40 regular. J: Let's go to a party or something. I'm only here for a few days. I want to do something fun. G: Okay! Where's a fun party? Where's the fun bash? J: I don't know. You're supposed to know.

G: Not me. I'm out of the loop. J: I thought you were the loop. G: I've never been the loop. I'm always on the periphery of the loop. J: Will you investigate and figure something out? G: Yeah, I'll do it. J: Let's go out together and have some fun. G: Me take you out? That'll be good for some stories. J: [Big laugh.] G: Stir the pot, woman.

I APPROACH THE BOOTH. George and Julia pretend they don't see me coming. They both lean in toward the center of the table, speaking into the tape recorder, the crowns of their heads almost touching. "He isn't going to listen to this tape, right?" George says. "No, he'll have a transcriber. He'll never hear this." "I don't care for him," George says earnestly. "Do you like him?" "I don't think he likes us," says Julia, knitting her brow. "No, I don't think he likes us, either," says George. "I could tell that when we came in," says Julia. "And I just know I'm going to lose sleep over it tonight, too." Continuing the scene, straightening herself in the booth, rearranging her sweater primly, Julia announces, "I would just like to say, on behalf of my boyfriend George Clooney, that we apologize for the last"—she checks her watch—"fifty-eight minutes of our ramblings." "Right!" "We had a couple of highlights.

But for the most part, it's just trash." "Pure trash. And I'd like to apologize for the future Mrs. Clooney and her potty mouth." "And my resistance to wearing white!" George laughs uproariously. "I'm sorry, George, but I'm just not ready. Stop giving me such a hard time. The pressure!" "She wants to wear a red wedding dress," George explains to me. "I'm thinking more something in green, to bring out the circles under my eyes." "I've been keeping her up nights." "You bobcat!" says Julia. George makes a growling sound like a bobcat. "That's what you boys say, isn't it? She's like a bobcat in the sack. I've learned more pickup lines from you boys." "Does anybody ever try a pickup line on you?" George asks. "Like, they come up and go, 'So, what's a nice movie star like you doing in a place like this?' " "Strangely, I haven't heard that one. I did have a guy come up to me once a few years ago in a magazine store. He just walked up and says, 'Do you wanna have dinner with me?' I was sort of speechless. And then I was like, 'No. No. No!' And he was like, 'Why not?' And I was like, 'Well, first of all, this is New York City, and I'm a girl by myself, talking to a man I've never seen before.' There was a certain charm to his chutzpah." "You got to give him that," George says, tilting his head in a show of admiration.

"But then he ended up on Entertainment Tonight a few years later, telling the story of trying to pick me up." "Dude!" "How about you, George?" Julia says. "You mean do people come up to me?" "There are a couple of attractive women sitting at the bar right now," I say. "They've been waiting more than two hours just to catch a glimpse of you." "Yeah?" George swivels around in the booth, looks briefly in the direction of his fans. "Actually, I've had guys come up and say, 'My wife loves you,' or 'My wife would like to'—you know—'My wife would leave me for you,' or stuff like that, and usually they're sort of ticked off about it. People have images of you that have nothing to do with reality." "You mean like the fact that you're a bobcat in the sack?" Julia asks. "I'm a hellcat, actually." Julia smiles a very large and winning smile. "A hellcat. Duly corrected. Delete bob, add hell." "Enter hell . . . literally," says George.

"Welcome to hell! Ah ha ha! But seriously, I get letters all the time from women. Some are really great. They have these scenarios." "You mean, like, here's the scenario: you, me, naked, sand?" Julia says. "Oh, no, it will start off very innocent." He makes his voice urgent and breathless: "You're at a ballgame, sitting next to me. We just happen to be . . ." "Oh, my God!" Julia covers her mouth. She slaps her thigh. "Like a romance novel?" "I'm sure I get better letters than you do," George says. "Women are better letter writers, no? I guess yours say something like"—he switches to his surfer-dude voice—" 'I'd sure like to see you naked!' " Julia rears back, cuts loose with a trumpeting silver-screen laugh. "That's why you don't see a lot of guy romance novelists. Then he thrust his red-helmeted champion—" "Hey, hey, hey!" "—into her shaded portals of love—" "Sweet mother of God, George!"