I watched Shattered Glass tonight, the decent, fairly straightforward, but unimpressive film about the downfall of New Republic writer Stephen Glass and his serial fabrication in print. I found myself yelling at the screen at this weasly real-life villian more than I would for any fictional one. His demise predated Jayson Blair's, and he sort of pioneered the latter-day career route for young phenoms who lie their way to the top and then get caught in front of a nationwide audience: Cry a lot, play up your youth, let people think you might be suicidal, lean on all the good graces of others which you've acquired through your innocent smarminess, go into therapy, come out a "new man," do the TV shows, write your book, live off whatever overly generous advance you got, then look for a new line of work. Glass luckily listened to his family and had a backup plan already in place: law school. Blair, meanwhile, is reportedly looking for a job in human resources, when last I read.
The DVD of Glass has one of the better extras I've seen recently: the "60 Minutes" interview with Glass from Aug. 17, 2003. In it, they show the stock newsmagazine scenes of Glass looking like he's doing normal everyday things: typing on his computer, walking around his New York apartment, cycling at the gym while wearing an ironic "Eat Krispy Kreme Doughnuts" T-shirt. He talks about how he fabricated so much in the most earnest tone, and then -- just under 10 minutes into the clip -- they show him stepping outside of an unmarked green door next to a very distinctive-looking sculpted wall. If you've ever driven between the Williamsburg Bridge and the Lincoln Tunnel, you might recognize it. It's the Storefront for Art and Architecture at 97 Kenmare St. Which makes me wonder: Perhaps Stephen Glass lived or still lives (or works or works out) in an apartment/space above this SoHo landmark.
OK, I'll taking off my Obscure Semi-Celebrity Stalker hat right now.