Attention San Francisco Bay Area Residents!

Gillian Anderson posters and photos available @ these nearby locations!

The Poster Warehouse

Berkeley, CA 94707

Tel: (510) 704-9891-- Fax: (510) 704-9892-- Warehouse: (800) 598-9848

The poster warehouse re-stocks daily and has every poster imaginable. Imports, art, music, celebrities, photography, movies and more! Also rare and/or never seen before photos from movies and of celebrities!

Updates will be here on 12/20/98 @ 10:00 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time and at the end of every month there after.

 

June 1998

Details Magazine

Excerpts

Scully and Mulder's X-Cellent Adventure: Gillian Anderson looks like hell. She's as pale as a mime school applicant, her delft-blue eyes are underlined with dark blurs, her red hair is as filthy as a mud puddle. She looks like some one you'd see being shoved into a van on Cops. Anderson has to look like this, though, because Dana Scully has just seen an alien. "I've been through some…stuff," Anderson tells me hesitantly from inside a big parka, and that's the whole of her explanation. "Stuff" is one of the euphemisms used on the Hollywood set of the X-Files movie, a secretive site of controlled information, a veritable Langley, Virginia, of film making. Before shooting started, only about twenty people read the full script--printed on red paper to foil copying--and have all signed contracts pledging not to reveal the plot. …. At sundown, Anderson leaves the set for the day. But at 7:00pm, the crew is brought cups of coffee.

ROB: What is the X-Files movie about?

ANDERSON: (after a long thoughtful pause) Trust.

"I'm sorry I'm in a lot of pain." For Gillian Anderson, the shoot has gotten worse. A few years ago, her daughter Piper Maru accidentally sliced Anderson's right cornea with her finger nail, and now, after a few hours of bobbing in a tank of water mixed with milk and chlorine, to film a plot point no one will explain to me, her eye is as red and swollen as a bee sting. As a medic flushes Anderson's eye with saline, the actress calmly says, "Holy shit." Small and muscled in a tank top, with a gymnast's tight physique, Anderson, twenty-nine, handles the pain stoically as she sits in her trailer. A phone from her agent, Connie Freiberg, cheers Anderson. "Oh, you were just thinking of me," Anderson teases. " Were you touching yourself?"

She won't eat broccoli because it's "gaseous," but she will gun her Porsche to 120 mph on the Pacific Coast Highway. " Nothing joyful ever happens on the show. I mean 'Yay! We found another alien!'? There's no celebration in that." Her three-year-old daughter, born during the second season of the X-Files, comes into the trailer, and Anderson gives her a big smile. " Hi. Pumpkin!" Anderson says. But the girl seems startled by the pallor of Mom's powdery makeup. "You've got donuts on your face," Piper says.

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