She insists that as “independent film keeps getting bigger, I want to make it small again,” only to confess later during a casting meeting for the movie Infamous that (her italics) “there is nothing more important than sitting in a room with Julia Roberts.”
A more forthright book would’ve taken the indie community to task for selling its soul to the studios and jumping into the sack with award-hungry stars.
Not that the Voice is the fount of filmic credibility lately, and I’m not one to begrudge someone’s weariness of artistic suffering, but for some reason, I did kind of hope Vachon would always be a scrappy pioneer. Or that she’d keep fighting for new generations of filmmakers not her own, which seems to be the root of the sellout issue.
Review: Christine Vachon’s A Killer Life [villagevoice]