“He acted like he didn’t care, but he did. He’d always show up. At Cannes last year, he’d say, ‘I have this film coming out,’ and then get the title wrong.”
Baker flew from that window several months before Let’s Get Lost premiered at Venice. “Couples at the screening were necking,” Weber said. “Chet would have liked that. A real compliment.”
I asked Weber to imagine Baker resurrected at Toronto to trumpet in the first North American screening. The filmmaker smiled. “It would all be craziness. He’d flirt with the girls, leave the table and not return for hours, maybe borrow someone’s jacket. In a day in the life of Chet Baker, nothing was normal.”
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