Holy shit. Do I ever have something great for you today. I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted a Barry Sonnenfeld transcript here in the blog, but I think after you read what’s to come, you’ll forget all about this lengthy dry spell.
So far, I’ve mostly posted transcripts that have had to do with Barry Sonnenfeld’s professional life, conversations between Sonnenfeld and various movie stars regarding serious show business. Beside the transcript of the time that Will Smith crashed Sonnenfeld’s Christmas dinner, the private life of Barry Sonnenfeld has gone mostly unexplored. Not anymore.
I was looking through these transcripts, trying to find the juiciest one I could find, and I’m making no exaggeration when I say that this one blew my mind, mostly because it deals with an event that I didn’t know ever happened, and I am certain that no one in the media has ever reported about this scoop. It’s probably too juicy.
As it turns out, in mid-1997, just after the release of Men In Black, while both Barry Sonnenfeld and Will Smith’s marriages were “on the skids,” the two men decided to take some time away from their wives and get a place together. They were frequent collaborators, dear friends, and as I’ve just learned, roommates. This is some amazing stuff, people. This transcript which you are about to read may be the most exposing, most personal piece of pop culture history ever recorded. Thank God you all have me to bring it to you.
Without further ado, I give you “The Transcript.”
(Will is sitting on a baby blue couch, eating pork rinds, laughing maniacally while watching the hit sitcom The Single Guy. Barry walks in, carrying two paper bags full of groceries)
Will Smith: Holy shit, that’s some funny business.
Barry Sonnenfeld: Really, Will, that’s what you choose to do with your time? Watch Jonathan Silverman sitcoms?
WS: Dude’s funny, B-Feld.
BS: I don’t see the appeal. I had him in for a screen test when I was making The Addams Family, and I found him lacking in charisma.
WS: Shit, Sonnenfeld. You had J Silver Man come in for that movie, but not me? I’m tellin’ you, I was born to play Lurch. Who’d he read for?
BS: Lurch.
WS: You fuckin’ wit me.
BS: You got me; he was going for Cousin It.
WS: Yikes. There was no way he was beating out Robin Williams for that one.
BS: Actually, John Franklin played Cousin It. Good joke, though.
WS: Don’t patronize me, Sonnenfeld. The last man who patronized me’s mouth ended up getting jiggy with my boot. You might say that my foot made his teeth take a little trip down to Miami, where some ladies said “Bienvenedo” to them.
BS: Come on, Will, it’s just you and me here. There’s no need for threats or violence, you don’t have to impress anyone.
WS: That’s where you’re wrong B-Feld. People are always watching me, man. If I’m not constantly on my grind, the world gone know, and that’s when the next would-be king comes along and takes my damn throne.
BS: Just because I’m curious, who’s the next would-be king right now?
WS: You remember the Tony Rich Project?
BS: Yeah.
WS: Well, it’s not him. Please! You think I’m going to tell you who’s nipping at my divine heels? Shit, I might as well anoint the bitch with fucking olive oil.
BS: I liked that “Nobody Knows It But Me” song. It was so smooth and sensitive.
WS: You know what else is smooth and sensitive?
BS: Please don’t say “the tip of your dick.”
WS: The tip of my dick, bitch.
BS: Third time today, that joke never gets old.
WS: Shit, I’m just doing my part to try to get you to stop talking about smooth, sensitive things.
BS: I’ll see what I can do. I’m glad we’ve somehow gotten onto the topic of suggestions for how we can change our behavior, because I’ve got a few notes.
WS: Aw shit, here we go.
BS: First of all, Will, you have got to clean off the soap after you shower.
WS: I’d like to point out right here and now that there’s no way you can prove that’s my hair. Maybe it’s your hair?
BS: I’m a bald Jew, you’re a young black man. Are you trying to tell me that you don’t think one could tell the difference between our hairs?
WS: That shit’s profiling!
BS: Will, I’m not asking that much; just be respectful of my space.
WS: I don’t know what that mean.
BS: How about this. You know what this means: Eggo Waffles?
WS: Alright, you got me on that one. I did steal some of your waffles.
BS: I bet Jonathon Silverman wouldn’t steal my waffles.
WS: B-Feld, that was just hurtful.
BS: You’re right, I’m sorry, Will. It’s clear that if we’re going to make this living situation work, we need to work on our communication.
WS: Shit, you sound like my wife. Like a bald, Jewish version of my wife.
BS: Not a “bald, Jewish, male version of your wife?”
WS: I don’t follow.
BS: Look, don’t worry about it. All I’m saying is that we need to put together a list of house rules, you know, a collection of the things that matter most to each of us.
WS: That sounds like a great idea.
BS: Really, Will? I’m glad to hear that you’re on board with this thing. I really think it’ll help things run a lot smoother around here.
WS: I’ll tell you what gone make things go smooth around here: some of that P-Ussy. You feel me, B-Feld?
BS: I don’t know. I think that might hurt my efforts to patch things up with my wife.
WS: Whatever, Sonnenfeld. I’m outta here; the smart money says that there’s some babies at the club who’ve got a Big Willy shaped hole in their anal cavity.
(Will leaves)
