Apes, Damn Dirty

As in “damn dirty apes.”

Now, I know what you’re asking yourself – “Why am I surfing the net when I could be doing something constructive?”

Well, I…

Huh.

Okay, I have to admit that actually wasn’t what I thought you were asking yourself. I figured it would be something about why I mentioned PLANET OF THE APES and…to be honest…you’ve thrown me for a bit of a loop here. I mean, I’m gone for a few weeks (sorry about the long absence – explanation to follow in the next post) and you go and throw something like that at me, first day back. It’s really kind of rude, actually. You at least could have let me have coffee first; settle into the day and all that. I would have done that for you. But I digress.

Okay, let’s pretend you asked me why I’m mentioning PLANET OF THE APES. Well, it all starts way back when I was finishing the Montreal portion of the shoot, and has to do with toothpaste and tapeworms. See, everyone on the crew was under strict advisement to bring their own toiletries with them to China – word had it that the Chinese put antifreeze in their toothpaste.

“Really?”

No. No, they don’t. For some reason they put enough lead into their toys to block Superman’s X-Ray vision, but they definitely do not put antifreeze into their toothpaste. However, following one location scout’s return from the Far East with a hitchhiker in tow (a nasty tapeworm, not some guy on the side of the highway who was released early from the psych facility because “they really needed the bed”*), everyone was willing to err on the side of caution. So what did I pack? Enough toothpaste to see me through the next century, and enough hair gel to last exactly four out of six weeks.

Ah, hindsight. Bringer of clarity, master of humility. You see, without the aid of some sort of hair product, I appear exactly 12 years old – my hair just kind of hangs there like dew on the midnight grass, mist on a summer night, or whatever the hairy equivalent of those might be. Personally, I think it looks horrible. The film’s director, on the other hand, has a different opinion. The first night I was going au natural, he approached me, eyes narrowed, and said:

“Well it’s about time you got rid of that f-ing…PLANET OF THE APES hair.”

Now here’s where the debate started. The crew, already evenly divided on their opinions about my new ‘do, once again found themselves split as to whether Rob was referring to APES’ rugged Heston or simian Zaius. I mean, Heston I could live with – I’m all about prying guns out of cold, dead hands (albeit only to combat zombies or some similar undead menace). But an ape? Really?

While “Zaius” or “The Doctor” would be genuinely cool nicknames, I had a feeling that getting them to stick would turn out about as well as when I told the members of my grade two class to call me “Spike”. With my justification being, suitably enough, that my hair was spiky (ed. note – it wasn’t really, I just thought the name would make me feared.) So, weeks after my self-perception became torn between two worlds – those being our own and the apes’ – I managed to corner Rob at a bar in downtown Shanghai and ask if he thought I resembled a gun-toting NRA president or an ape with a doctorate. Immediately bursting into laughter, he confirmed…drum roll please…

Heston all the way.

So there you have it. According to an A-list Hollywood director, I’m the next Charlton Heston.

Or my hair is, at any rate.

* Free spaceship to whoever correctly identifies this reference. And I want a detailed description of the scene – imaginary spaceships aren’t free, people**

** Technically they are free. But my time isn’t. Question me again and I’ll start billing. R1 knows what I’m talking about. And, incidentally, is probably the only one who can correctly answer this question***

***Yes, R1****, that’s a gauntlet at your feet. And I’m the one who threw it down. You picking it up?

****For all other readers, I’m R3. It’s a long story, ask me later.