Page Six Magazine has this great column about Bill Murray’s recent, post-divorce debut into New York City nightlife. These adventures allegedly include attending a Williamsberg house party on Halloween, hanging out with rock bands, and engaging in philosophical conversations with hot young barflies. However, unlike many dudes (of any age), this isn’t creepy at all, for he’s doing it all in the classic, deadpan Bill Murray manner:
He’s not a boozy, sweaty party hound who gets caught on camera cheesing it up with pretty young girls (see: Mel Gibson, Bono); rather, he’s more like a ghost in the night, who shows up out of nowhere, engages in utterly random conversations and then exits gracefully–leaving witnesses to wonder what the hell just happened.
Naturally, the article draws parallels between these stories and Murray’s Lost In Translation character, an aging actor who ends up befriending Scarlett Johansson’s recently married and troubled young woman while both are “lost” in Tokyo. This sounds like quite the cynical method of analysis, but that’s an odd statement from myself, who pretty much believes that most people are “lost” but just too busy to notice. At any rate, the discussion continues:
As for why Bill’s suddenly become everybody’s favorite party guy, Manhattan psychotherapist Rachel Moheban has an answer: “After divorce, some men just want a whole new life. It sounds like a midlife crisis, but I don’t think it’s worrisome. After being married for a long time, sometimes men just like to have some fun and feel free.”
Whatever the reason, Bill’s new proclivity for PYTs seems to be working in his favor lately. One 30-year-old magazine editor who lives in a fashionable building in the West Village says that when he took his dog for a walk at around 7:45 a.m. on Election Day, he spotted Bill–in a tennis visor and sunglasses–emerging from his lobby. “He looked like he’d spent the night in the building,” speculated the source. “Despite his getup, I recognized that adorable doughy jawline, and thought, ‘Hey, Bill Murray just banged my neighbor!’ It was totally a booty call.” For weeks after the encounter, the source eyed up every attractive woman in his building, wondering if she was Bill’s latest conquest.
That’s not even the most amusing account of all, but you’ll have to read the whole article to learn about Murray’s alleged “[N]o one will ever believe you” antics in Union Square Park. These stories remind me of that one time,
at band camp on Regis & Kathie Lee (don’t ask), when Murray appeared with some bagels and cream cheese and dug in for breakfast during his interview. As Regis went on about canned peas, and Kathie Lee batted her eyelashes in amazement, Bill Murray slowly, inscrutably, and with an utterly expressionless demeanor, chewed his bagel in quiet contemplation. Bloody hell!