Melbourne, Victoria
Australia
Last night my little ponies and I all went out after work. Now we always give our buddy, Dave, a hard time for taking us to these really trendy, inherently expensive bars. Frankly, I reckon we could ruck up anywhere and have a good night - and my Screwdriver would be like half the price. But Dave and the other bartenders seem to consider themselves alcohol connoisseurs (aka booze hounds to the layperson) and enjoy the trendy, and again, inherently expensive drinks. That is how we found ourselves at the cocktail bar, 1806.
So we’re all drinkin and laughin, and actually considering leaving because we’re so loud in the expectantly-quite-on-a-Tuesday-night bar. Hannah, Finchy and I find ourselves waiting to settle up at the bar, when Finchy spots Robert Di Niro. He points him out and insists we all touch him as he walks by. We all, having a few cocktails in us, throw caution to the wind, "reached out and touched faith.” I’m sorry, we’re all jumping off what bridge?
I honestly didn’t think it could possibly be him. Because:
1) We had a few cocktails in us.
2) Why would De Niro be in Australia?
3) Why would De Niro be out on a Tuesday night?
4) Why would his bodyguards let our drunky little paws all over THE Taxi Driver?
But as he was walking past (and admittedly, I only saw him in profile), it did appear to be the legend, De Niro. Then, a man who turned out to be his friend, said in an annoyed tone, “Yes, it’s him….” as he forced him through the crowd. Then Hannah and Finchy chased them out onto the street as I stood at the bar still convinced that they were messing with me. In my defense, they have a history of collaboratively messing with me.
Within minutes, Finchy and Hannah were posting, “I touched Robert De Niro” on their Facebook profiles. I love that, unsure how to spell De Niro, they both turned to me, the token "celebrity obsessed American" herself. I sounded it out in my drunk mind, and quite convincingly spelt out “D-E-N-I-R-O, big De little Niro," I was walking around saying, a total drunken guess. And for the record, that's actually the first celebrity I've ever seen in real life. Couldn't be farther from Hollywood or expecting it any less if I tried.
Later, while Finchy was regaling the table with the nights events, I came up, interested, and interrupted the table, “Wait. What happened?” “You were there!” Finchy reiterated. Right, no more Screwdrivers.
With my journalistic integrity at stake, I Googled “Robert De Niro Melbourne” today; our boy really was in the house.
From the pages of the Australian newspaper, The Age, came this article:
Hollywood comes to Paris end of town, De Niro style
Robert De Niro shoots in Melbourne
Hollywood actor Robert De Niro on the set of his new film The Killer Elite, shot in Melbourne's Spring Street. Photo: Jason South
At midday on Spring Street, Robert De Niro’s waiting — for the call to action. As it comes, he shuffles his way from a public phone booth (was he talking Italian in there?) to the front door of The European restaurant. He does four takes, each takes a minute, and then he’s gone. Another day, another several hundred thousand dollars.
The publicity-shy actor, director and restaurateur is in Melbourne for around 10 days to shoot a small role in the action-adventure film The Killer Elite. The $66 million Australian-financed movie is adapted from The Feathermen, a ‘‘factual’’ novel by English adventurer, polar explorer and former SAS man Sir Ranulph Fiennes.
Also among the big-name cast are English actors Clive Owen and Jason Statham, American Dominic Purcell (Prison Break) and Australians Yvonne Strahovski (I Love You Too), Ben Mendelsohn, Aden Young and Underbelly star Firass Dirani.
Only De Niro and Strahovski were on set yesterday, but while there was plenty of commotion on the footpath outside Spring Street cafes Federici’s, The European and the City Wine Shop, its cause wasn’t immediately clear to many of those who’d gathered to watch.
The film trucks were parked discreetly in nearby streets, the spotlights were easy to miss amid the crowds and the barriers. But the eagle-eyed may have noticed that the uniformly young and good-looking patrons soaking up the rays at the footpath tables were dressed in slightly retro attire. And the cars at the kerb — well, when did you last see such a cluster of vintage Peugeots, Renaults and Citroens in one place, other than a wrecker’s perhaps?
Speaking to The Age last month, the film’s executive producer, Christopher Mapp, was lavish in his praise of Melbourne’s locations. ‘‘We’ve found elements of the Middle East, Paris, the UK here,’’ he said. ‘‘We’ll be shooting elements of true locations, too, but I challenge audiences to pick which is which.’’
Yesterday’s scene was meant to be Paris, 1979, and the precinct that will no doubt become known as the Paris end of Spring Street was indeed a worthy double.
Last week, the crew shot in Frankston, but details of the film, which is based at the Docklands film studio and began shooting on May 13, have been closely guarded. However, British media reports suggest it’s ruffled a few feathers already, in military circles at least.
Fiennes’ 1991 book claimed to be a true account of how four British soldiers, including two members of the SAS, were murdered over a 17-year period by a hit squad called ‘‘the Clinic’’, which was financed by a wealthy Arab sheikh seeking vengeance for the death of his son at the hands of the British military. Fiennes would have been killed too, he claimed, if not for the efforts of a vigilante group known as ‘‘the Feathermen’’.
The British Ministry of Defence has said many of the events Fiennes describes ‘‘simply never took place’’, while relatives of the dead soldiers have accused him, and now the film, of opening up old wounds for commercial gain.
But few of those who gathered outside the Princess Theatre to watch yesterday would have been aware of any of that. In fact, few were even aware of what they were watching.
When told that Robert De Niro was appearing in a scene, one member of the security team asked, ‘‘Is he an actor?’’ Admittedly, he’d been called into action at 3am, part of a crack squad sent in to reserve parking spots, and so could be excused for being a little fuzzy-headed.
But Peugeot enthusiast John Vagg, who got the call at home in Ballarat on Monday night to be in Melbourne with his car for a 9am start yesterday, was none the wiser about the Oscar-winner in our midst either.
‘‘Never heard of him,’’ he said. ‘‘I suppose I’ll have to buy a ticket and go have a look when it comes to the cinema."
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