For Penelope Spheeris, Fame Came at a Price

Spheeris plans to hit a few local clubs between Silverdocs events. She'd probably fit right in, with her black long-sleeve shirt from a thrift store ("How 'bout that -- the millionaire in a thrift store!") and chunky black sneakers that add four inches to her wispy frame. Her hair used to be jet black, and once it was blue, but lately it's blond and silver with brownish tips.

"Wherever I go, I like to find that pocket of punks," she says. "Especially the gutter punks and the crusty punks, and they travel a lot. And they're a really strong underground network. I like them, I relate to them."

Later Wednesday night, Spheeris showed a montage of her old music videos and a selection of new ones by promising filmmakers who don't get play on MTV. She was an appropriate curator, with her liberal use of "dude" as an interjection.

Sam Jaffe, 21, and Joe McGlew, 20, came to see Spheeris. They've seen "Decline Part I" and are fans of her narrative films, especially "Suburbia." Jaffe, who's studying film at the Purchase Film Conservatory, has a decidedly Spheeristic take on the current talent in the music and movie industries.

"There are people coming out with really crazy [stuff]," Jaffe says. "But on the whole, it seems like the same thing over and over. No innovation."

It's a view Spheeris addressed earlier at brunch. "The problem is sorting through the bad music and sorting through the ego trips and getting to find something of meaning and substance," Spheeris says, finishing her sandwich. "And it takes a long time to sort through. Just like with directing. Everybody wants to be a rock star or a director."

Spheeris says she's thrilled that documentaries have a new lease on life because of people like Michael Moore, who have made it a marketable art form.

"But [so many people are] spending all their time preserving and recycling the old stuff, that no one's coming up with any new stuff," she says. "It'd be cool if we found the time to do that. I'm getting tired of it. So someone else has to do it."

She looks distracted for a second, as if she hears the teakettle whistling in that nice little house in Laurel Canyon.