Monday, March 17, 2014

"Some folks die for songs, that's how they know they belong"

Wednesday, February 26th, 2014, at the New Beverly Cinema, minor history took place. It was the night I launched something that I'd long dreamed of doing, probably since the first time I took an obscure VHS tape to a friend's house: a branded, personally curated screening series, complete with a celebrity guest. While in my past, I had made plenty of booking suggestions to theatres, emceed plenty of screenings, and even done Q&A's with big names, this was the first time that, in effect, I was not just selling the films, but myself as part of the draw as well; attempting, in my middle age, to establish a relationship with the moviegoing public as a trustworthy tastemaker. And much like, say, the first public performance of a struggling new band, it was a very good show, just a shame more people weren't there to see it. This essay, and the essays that are intended to follow after future screenings in my series, will not so much recap the evening itself for someone who could or couldn't attend, but present a deeper explanation on the films presented and how they tie together, so that said reader may, in effect, be inspired to seek out the films and recreate the combo on their own, and [crossed fingers] be inspired to attend a future one.

Sig Shore's THAT'S THE WAY OF THE WORLD has always held an enormous place of fascination in my heart, from the very first time I spotted it in its original "big box" videocassette release in a rental store's clearance rack: Harvey Keitel, AND Earth Wind & Fire, in a movie TOGETHER! - why have I never seen this, and why don't I own this? Expecting kitsch value upon my first viewing, I was pleasantly surprised to find a compelling (if occasionally melodramatic) indictment of the budding homogenization of music through corporate and criminal influence in the '70's, and more importantly, one of the best nuts-and-bolts depictions of how a talented producer can take a terrible-sounding song and, with all the possibilities of the studio, turn it into something that, while still annoying, can hold its own amongst all the other infectious friendly pop that made AM radio every artist's goal for decades. I still own that big box release, and tracked down more copies of that VHS to give to friends with similar sensibilities to mine. When it finally got a DVD release in the late noughties, I would tell people to Netflix it, back when that service, you know, actually carried rare DVDs.

THAT'S THE WAY OF THE WORLD tells the story of Coleman Buckmaster (Harvey Keitel), a successful and respected producer for a A-Kord Records, whose efforts to launch EWF (renamed "The Group" in this film) are thwarted by the label's executives and the organized crime figures they're beholden to, who force him to produce a wholesome family trio, The Pages. His resentment builds as he learns that all the company resources will be going to The Pages, and both he and The Group, bound by exclusive contracts, will be unable to go elsewhere in the meantime. However, he begins to take a shine to the trio's legitimately captivating lead singer Velour, who reveals to him unsavory secrets about the real Page family dynamic, inspiring him to make a startling series of personal decisions that will affect everyone's futures.

"Music is my life. It's important to me. It's important to people. I mean, if it's good, it can give people some hope and some relief from all the shit in this world. And it can make them feel good, even if it is only for a couple of minutes. And that's what I wanna do. And I'm gonna do it."

Craig Zobel's GREAT WORLD OF SOUND, meanwhile, snuck up and surprised me for different reasons. I was familiar with Zobel as one of the creators of my then-favorite (and still beloved) Flash-animation website, Homestar Runner, along with brothers Mike and Matt Chapman, but I had not been aware previously that they were all classmates and collaborators with an exciting group of filmmakers emerging from University of North Carolina School of the Arts, a collective which included David Gordon Green, Jody Hill, and Jeff Nichols. Knowing little about the plot besides the obvious subject of music, and intrigued by the casting of Pat Healy, who I'd seen in bit parts, with Kene Holliday, who I'd grown up watching on "CARTER COUNTRY" and "MATLOCK," I went in blind, and discovered one of my favorite films of an already jam-packed 2007, one of the best movie years in recent memory. I had not yet made the connection that star Healy and I had already met, when he appeared as a contestant on "BEAT THE GEEKS" (an episode that, until now, few knew had been taped on September 12, 2001), but this connection and my love of his film begat a great friendship, which came in quite handy when I asked him to be my inaugural guest for the debut of Cinema Tremens.

GREAT WORLD OF SOUND concerns itself with the practice of "song sharking," where aspiring musicians pay upfront money to a record company that promises professional studio recording and promotion to radio stations, but rarely deliver anything more than a few cheap CDs. Healy is Martin, a guileless new recruit not fully aware he is working for con artists, while Holliday plays Clarence, an experienced smooth talker who may be cognizant of the scam, but is solely concerned about earning his commission after years of hard living. As they work their way through small Southern towns, the team quickly become the company's top salesmen. But when the younger idealist gets sincerely excited about one unusual artist, a teenage girl with a "New National Anthem," he begins to see the depths of the company's corruption firsthand, which challenges his self-image and threatens the already fragile stability of himself and his partner.

"I like this job. I like...I like the idea of this job, but the idea of it is not the same as doing it."

Opening with two lesser-known music dramas may not have been the strongest way to open a new programming series, but with Pat on the bill, I knew it would be the most distinctive and personal way, and his agreeing to appear meant an awful lot. Also, since my social orbit involves a large number of very excellent working musicians, in a way, I thought it would be a clever way of luring them to come to my premiere screening. Ya gotta know your audience, right? Well, it sorta worked...

THAT'S THE WAY received a much more positive reception than I had thought was likely from reading all manner of underwhelming reviews of the DVD and Blu-Ray releases. It was even more impressive considering that this, the only print available from the distributor (who themselves were rather amazed they possessed one!), was an edited-for-TV version under its rare alternate title SHINING STAR. (The differences I will detail later on) Thankfully, even in this compromised edit, people in the house were reacting to the same elements that I enjoyed my first time - Keitel's charm and confidence, the revealing performance by Cynthia Bostick (a lot of people asked me after the show whatever happened to the actress, which I sadly had no answer for), the elegance of the music (even the Pages' deliberately insipid song was composed by EWF titan Maurice White), and the look at a long-departed mid-'70's NYC (and brief L.A.) environment, long before, well, an all-new band of money men changed everything.

Frustratingly, there is little detailed information available about the making of this film. Director Sig Shore, now deceased, almost never discussed the experience, and most interviewers were more interested in his historical role of producing the two SUPER FLY films with Ron O'Neal. Screenwriter Robert Lipsyte, when you read his website biography, talks at length about his childhood, his background in sports journalism, and his multiple Young Adult novels, but doesn't even list this credit on his resume. The commentary track on the first DVD release with EWF members Verdine White and Ralph Johnson offers little insight from the band's perspective, since, as they mention, they go missing for almost an hour of the story; its omission from the current Blu-Ray is no great loss. And most other surviving alumni of the film have either not been located, or chosen not to comment. Which is a shame, because this film is chock full of incredibly interesting music-related contributors that add to its authenticity and its critique. Most have noted the cameos by legendary NYC radio personalities Murray the K and Frankie Crocker, but a little research reveals rich histories for other cast members. For example, playing a sardonic TV show host is big band musician, songwriter, and early San Francisco TV dance show host Dick Stewart, whose television program "KPIX DANCE PARTY" was one of the first to integrate its teen dancers, and gave early exposure to comedian Mr. Paul Mooney and actress Barbara Bouchet. In the somewhat overlong roller disco scene, there's Vy "Wonder Woman" Higginsen, the first black female prime time NYC radio personality, and first black female writer/producer/director of the longest-running Off-Broadway musical in American stage history, MAMA, I WANT TO SING - the autobiographical story of her sister Doris Troy Payne, writer/singer of the soul classic "Just One Look" and featured soloist on Pink Floyd's DARK SIDE OF THE MOON album, who also appears in the film, as a wedding pianist! In what is surely metatextual intent, the personalities who are portrayed as attempting to elevate "The Group" are exclusively African-American and use their actual names, while those portrayed as complicit to the Pages' success are exclusively white and given fake character names, as if Murray the K and Dick Stewart wanted it made clear they would never endorse such pap in their real lives. Hiding under the credit of "Mike Richards" is director Sig Shore himself, playing a retired former record company president, who describes his decision to sell his label to the mob as a means to "avoid tsuris" and declares, "I don't have to worry anymore about breaking backs and selling wax." Since Shore began his career in advertising and releasing other people's films before making his own, it's quite possible he was transposing personal experience into his dialogue. Fun sidebar: Shore's son Steve appears briefly as a vagabond musician whom Buckmaster rebuffs, and playing an ambitious female "yes man" at the record company is Valerie Shepherd, who did double duty on the film as continuity director, and would go on to success as a producer in an even bigger hive of entertainment villainy, reality television!

The primary cast have a surprising amount of musical background as well. Co-star Bostick was Miss Kentucky of 1970, and her contribution to the talent portion of the Miss America pageant was singing "Life is a Two-Way Street" from the Broadway musical JIMMY. Bostick's real-life pageant experience lends extra sass to the running theme of the company swells referring to Velour Page and her wholesome image as "Miss America." Page family patriarch Bert Parks, of course, spent years hosting the Miss America pageant and singing "There She Is" to the lucky tiara winner, which means years before playing as "family" together, Bostick would be first-hand witness to Parks' warbling. And playing hedonistic brother Gary Page is grown-up child star Jimmy Boyd, who recorded "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" at age 13, along with other novelty songs. And while Harvey Keitel may not have had any signficant association with music, his training in piano would pay off not just in this film, where he sits playing alongside EWF producer/songwriter Charles Stepney (who tragically died soon after in 1976), but also in his highly acclaimed performance as conflicted music lover/concert pianist/mob collector in James Toback's FINGERS three years later.

Screenwriter Robert Lipsyte clearly knew the musical environment of the mid-'70's, and as such his script is full of punchy allusions to what he perceived as wrong with the climate. Keitel's character name of Coleman Buckmaster, combining a first name suggesting jazz greatness with a last name suggesting easy money, may be a little too on-the-nose, but makes its point. The squeaky-clean Pages may have been thought to be a slam on The Carpenters or The Osmonds, but the most-likely inspiration was probably The Cowsills, as their happy demeanor and upbeat songs masked real-life abuse at the hands of domineering patriarch Bob Cowsill, a virtual blueprint for the dysfunction revealed within the Pages. Their mobbed-up liason, played by perpetual TV heavy Michael Dante, is named Mike Lemongello, which just has to be a direct mocking of easy-listening singer Peter Lemongello, whose LOVE '76 album made history by amassing high sales exclusively through direct TV marketing; if it ain't, that's some psychic-level nomenclature! And when the unlikely-named Velour confesses to conflicted producer Buckmaster her impoverished childhood, and her scheming willingness to stay aligned with an older man she despises, Lipsyte may very well want us to think of another unlikely-named girl urged by her mother to ankle for dollars first: Bobbie Gentry's immortal "Fancy."

Meanwhile, Sig Shore's direction is not the most dynamic or well-paced, but there are just enough touches to demonstrate his comfort with this discomforting environment. In an early scene where Buckmaster delivers cocaine to his addicted father (played by Scorsese regular Murray Moston, who would work with Keitel in six other movies), they converse in the piano repair shop where the parent, described as a former jazz artist himself, is now reduced to working; two generations of gifted musicians forced to facilitate lesser talents. (I wonder if this setting had any influence upon the creation of Keitel's character in the aforementioned FINGERS?) When Buckmaster describes his producing plight to his girlfriend (played by Francesca DeSapio, young Mama Corleone from THE GODFATHER PART II) at a Japanese restaurant, his dialogue about the current music business model is lain over footage of the chef rapidly cutting steak; a nice juxtaposition of artists being viewed by the industry as just so much meat to prepare and devour. And in one short scene in L.A., Velour and Buckmaster read a less-than-favorable review in an outdoor restaurant, and just over their shoulder, across the street, you can see the original Schwab's Drugstore on Sunset Blvd., where apocryphal legend would dictate future stars could be found, but rarely were. These moments help set the mood of harsh reality that the film's title wants to reinforce.

Getting back to those weird edits mentioned earlier: The recent Scorpion Releasing Blu-Ray of THAT'S THE WAY contains an HD transfer of the edited-for-television version of the film, and a SD transfer of the original PG-rated theatrical version; due to numerous rights changes and element misplacement, the release print previously used for the older DVD had gone missing, and an interpositive, not initially identified as the TV cut, was the only material available for upgraded scanning. It runs three minutes shorter than the theatrical version, the most significant cut being a love scene between Keitel and Bostick that would probably be acceptable for prime time today (some sideboob, none of the infamous "Harvey Hashpipe"), along with some relooping or removal of swear words, and, inexplicably, moments such as Buckmaster asking whether a flunky will take an icepick to him (too violent a suggestion?) or his reply of "Well, let's eat," when his girlfriend angrily leaves a takeout lunch behind upon finding Velour home with him (too post-coital?). The 35mm print provided for the screening was not quite the same as the TV cut; you could almost call it a blueprint. Most swears were muted, but not relooped - in fact, a couple scenes had black slug in the middle of them for a few frames, suggesting these were going to be edited with new lines. Also, while "shit" was always muted out, instances of "bitch" were left in! In any case, people got a few chuckles out of the sanitization efforts, but otherwise were very appreciative of this ultra-rare opportunity to see this projected on film in a theatre, even in a bizarre hybrid edit. And in turn, despite the drawbacks of both presentations, I highly recommend purchasing the Blu-Ray, which, if you click on the left image at the top of this paragraph, you could do right now.

"You know, Buckmaster, you are what's wrong with America today. You're supposed to be an artist. You're supposed to have soul. But you're just a schemer, like them. When the artists of a nation act like politicians, and businessmen, we can expect the decline of greatness."

The real hit of the evening, however, was GREAT WORLD OF SOUND, and all the better since Pat was present to get all that love first hand. In his introduction and post-show Q&A, he spoke about the film's origins from director/co-writer Zobel's own father's time working for a questionable music operation (he subsequently served as a consultant), as well as the most striking element of the film: scenes of actual unsigned musicians, unaware of the fictional circumstances, auditioning for Healy and Holliday improvising in character, being flattered and cajoled into purchasing their production package. (All artists were immediately debriefed and given the choice to opt in or out of the film, and their music was properly licensed.) Healy pointed out that there was an even mix of ordinary people, professionals hired by the producers to act out certain scenarios with the stars, and a few fully scripted scenes, but all of these encounters taught him important lessons for his own acting career. He also praised Holliday's inspiring ease at smooth talking all the "marks" in the film, as well as creating scenes on the spot that the filmmakers quickly scrambled to catch on camera.

After dozens of scene-stealing appearances in other projects, Healy's headliner turn as Martin in GREAT WORLD still remains a great revelation, depicting a man who feels compelled to do something of substance with his life, but never sure what it should be. At the film's beginning, he blankly talks of his transitory experience in radio to a very indifferent interviewer (prolific indie player Robert Longstreet), who clucks, "Constant motion is the new laziness," and ropes him into working for the record company with a variation of the same spiel Martin will soon ladle upon musicians. In his first lunch with Clarence, he describes how all his previous activities were based on the activities of his girlfriends. His current girlfriend Pam ("ONCE UPON A TIME" star Rebecca Mader) seems to be the primary breadwinner, making various cutesy handmade craft novelties, and they are barely scraping by, as they are depicted in one scene merging their CD collection so that duplicates can be sold back, and in another she refers to cutting up their credit cards. Martin grows initially infatuated with the concept of "discovering" talent because, as he compares to his girlfriend's crafts, he can "help people get their stuff out there," but that becomes problematic when he makes the naive decision to invest his own money in the aforementioned "New National Anthem." And when he discovers this project has been effectively sabotaged by the third-party studio crew, who waste the family's payment on excessive recording time allowing "no budget" for pressing CDs, trying to regain his moral compass only leaves him and Clarence stranded in Indianapolis with no money to return home. He is a man who can make himself be anything, but ultimately, he cannot figure out who the hell he is.

The screenplay by Zobel and George Smith is, much like Lipsyte's for THAT'S THE WAY, very well-researched in its otherwise obscure subject. It's established early that the activity of this record company, while unscrupulous, is not illegal, as the clients do receive something for their money, no matter how shoddy; contemplating a potential artist getting a stack of demo CDs reminded me of the Coen Brothers' INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS, when the titular character has only a large box of unsold LPs to show for his foray into the market. Besides his father's input, Zobel borrowed heavily from the writings and history of DJ/record producer Shad O'Shea, a minor hero from my hometown of Cincinnati: at one time he owned the Fraternity Records label (the main rival to King Records, where James Brown was signed), ran the studio where Midnight Star recorded hits like "No Parking on the Dance Floor", and has the distinction of being included in Rhino Records' first WORLD'S WORST RECORDS compilation, for the epic anti-counterculture polemic "Goodbye Sam". Reportedly, O'Shea was courted for the role of manipulative Great World of Sound president Gary W. Shank, but may have objected to playing a heelish character that would cast aspersions on his own legacy in music. (Clips from one of his training videos are intercut with new footage of actor John Baker as his surrogate). Besides music, it also understands inane business culture, with scenes of tedious "role-playing" exercises and how someone raising valid complaints can be marginalized by being mocked for his negativity. Co-producers the Chapman Brothers, who put "fhqwhgads" into the cultural dictionary, even created a very funny website (still active!) made to look exactly like it was put together by a fogey with no computer experience and a cheap online template. Sewiouswy, click all around it! Sign the guestbook! And just try to use the "Turn Music Off" function!

Considering that the GWS model of promising musicians are those with the best bankbook, the music featured in the film is actually rather good. Many of the amateur artists went on to modest regional careers after being featured in the film, even playing concerts in tandem with screenings. In these audition vignettes, to parlay the pageant metaphor from Ms. Bostick, I was reminded of the talent segments from Michael Richie's SMILE, where the girls in competition grow more endearing even as its made all too apparent some really lack skills. Meanwhile, frequent David Gordon Green soundtrack composer David Wingo, taking a break from his primary band Ola Podrida, creates both atmospheric score for the lonesome climates our antiheroes traverse, and is responsible for the actual composition of "New National Anthem," his haunting rendition playing over the closing credits. While some may wonder whether Martin is delusional thinking lyrics like "Don't mess with me, don't mess with me / Don't nobody mess with me" could be in a hit single, I'll certainly spend more time singing them than I will "Joy joy joy every day," no matter how better looking Velour Page may be.

"Fuck fair! There ain't no fair, there ain't no deserve! There is earn, and there is TAKE, motherfucker! These people we see, they wanna change they life because of they talent. You think this motherfuckin' country runs on talent?...I'm gonna do down to that airport, and I will convince that bitch sittin' behind the counter that she sound like Dionne motherfuckin' Warwick if it's gonna get me a ticket home! That's what I'm gonna do!"

While I had long imagined playing these two films together, after watching them in succession the same night, it really struck me how well they meshed, since they both involve elements such as family acts, patriotic songs, talent vs. money, etc. Over a post-show dinner with actress Shay Astar and musician/producer Chris Price, Price suggested that the first film depicts how money men blew up the original music industry, while the second shows the aftermath, with smaller men foraging for scraps in the ruins left behind. And he's absolutely spot on. The first film features executives crowing about how they will tell the public what is a hit, the second opens with someone spray-painting a record gold, driving the point home. In the '70's milieu of THAT'S THE WAY, record companies only sign and compensate artists they think will sell; by the '00's of GREAT WORLD, they sign everyone who has cash to pay them, with a dubious comparison to colleges who take in more students than they expect will successfully complete their studies, openly admitting that the business fuels a few good artists by fleecing poor ones. A-Kord Records promises millions in revenue to their business partners; potential GWS employees are supposed to be impressed by a supervisor's bank balance of $13,876.33 - "Think those numbers will get you through lunch?"

What both movies also grasp too well is racial distrust and division. Buckmaster increasingly loses the patience and faith of The Group as the lily-white Pages take up his time, as his supervisors find all manner of politically correct ways to all but say they don't want to be in the black music business. Meanwhile, Martin and Clarence initially try to be loose and jocular about race in their partnership, but Martin's first world problems are in stark contrast to Clarence's obligations and bouts with homelessness, Clarence privately tells black clients derogatory fiction about Martin in his absence to gain their trust, and after losing a black teenager's investment (and his) in the "New National Anthem," Martin tries to atone for it by putting the brakes on hard-selling a white female applicant. Relationships have not improved in the 30 years between these stories, the participants just find new ways to take advantage of the disparity.

Finally, both movies feature ostensibly "happy" endings that only a scorpion could appreciate, leaving their respective protagonists free from a bad environment, but at the cost of their moral codes, though the specifics will be left for you the viewer to discover.

And if you've made it this far, you can go ahead and tell all your friends that you were present that evening in spirit. This screening and this post-mortem have been a wonderful experience in discovery and insight, and I thank you for joining me. Let's do this again soon, like at the end of the month.

Might as well go out on a song:

In the wars when the wars were still going, going strong
Weren’t nobody in the wars who was living very long
Asked my teacher why folks die
She said some folks die for songs
It’s how they know they belong

Songs for the veterans in their veteran caravans
Who know turtles are not terrapins
Still they have hope and it shows
Or at least hope that it snows
We all like it when it snows

Don’t mess with me, don’t mess with me
Don’t nobody mess with me
You think I'm kidding
I'm not kidding
Got my finger on the trigger
So get your ass behind the singer
I'm like Texas, I'm like Texas
I'm like Texas, only bigger

In the parks when the parks were still places we always loved
Still weren't nobody on the lawns who were staying there past dark
Asked my momma where folks was, she said she guessed they all gone home
That they'd all be back 'fore long

Songs for the catamarans and y'all with super bad Trans-Ams
For what you've done in your churches
And for what you've done in bars
It helps us stand up when its hard
Cause that's all that anthems are

Don't mess with me, don't mess with me
Don't nobody mess with me
There's no hittin'
There's no spittin'
I'm not kiddin'
There's no spittin'
Got my finger on the banner
On the starry spangled banner
Just like Texas you cant miss us
God and Texas, here forever


See you again March 26th at the New Beverly for the next Cinema Tremens double feature: Douglas Sirk's MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION and Jean-Jacques Beineix's BETTY BLUE, with a special introduction to the latter film by my guest, writer/director Sacha Gervasi. Tickets on sale now!

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

John and John, Where Have Ye Gone?

If you're a comedy lover, March 5, 1982, and March 4, 1994, are two days in history where you had better laugh just to stop from crying.

When you talk to someone born between, say, 1940 to 1960, they'll have some sort of story about how the assassination of President John F. Kennedy shocked them like no other death of a public figure, or for that matter, any other tragic event they'd witnessed. After that, it gets a little more fragmented and particular, depending either on your political stripe or entertainment taste. And for me, my personal JFK moment has always been when I came into my father's house on a Friday afternoon, just after buying snacks for the evening's VHS rental, and as I walked into the dining room, the news on the TV was announcing that John Belushi had died.

I thought I was pretty together for a 12-year-old. Sure, it was shocking when Elvis died at 42, I had been listening and pantomiming his records alone in my room and was thus a fan, but I was in grade school and he was my parents' rock star: I shook my head and went on. I was up past my bedtime watching "THE TONIGHT SHOW," as was my regular routine, when the news interrupted that December night in 1980 with news that John Lennon had been shot; again, I was shocked, especially since his new album had only come out three weeks before, but somehow I got over this too. But when I heard Belushi was gone, I was inconsolable for weeks, and there's a part of me that's never gotten over it.

Perhaps it is because unlike Presley and Lennon, Belushi felt like he was mine, a star that belonged to me and was not my parents' hand-me-down. I found him by staying up late to watch "SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE," I had the ludicrous tingle of going to an R-rated movie like THE BLUES BROTHERS to see him do his magic...nobody older than me had to set the stage and sell me on any sort of past track record, I was seeing his legacy happen from the ground floor. And at that stage of my life, I was a little husky like he was, and I looked up to his ability to be physically graceful and command attention and be attractive to girls. I wanted to be him when I became a man. And in most of the right ways, and even some of the wrong ways, I still want to.

It seems strange to make this kind of observation about a man who is remembered for his domineering qualities, but Belushi emerged from an artistic mindset that is very hard to find in the entertainers of today, where genius was not only in how they could project, but also how they could hold back. If you watch enough classic SNL sketches you will see how John can play completely normal while another player or guest star takes focus and gets the laughs. It may not have been his personal instinct - he was notorious for trying to sandbag female writers' sketch ideas - but once a sketch made it to show, and the camera was on, he was all about the scene, whether he was the prime mover or the straight man. And while he certainly owned the frame when he was headlining a movie, when he was playing support, such as to Talia Shire in OLD BOYFRIENDS or Jack Nicholson in GOIN' SOUTH, he knew when to turn his wattage up and when to turn it down. Maybe that's old Second City discipline straight from Viola Spolin and Paul Sills, maybe it's from working with people whom you enjoy playing back-and-forth with, but it is a skill that is missing from a lot of comedy nowadays. I am not here to accuse modern comedians of being attention hogs, far from it: most have trained in the same talent incubators (Second City, the Groundlings) under the same standards, and in the best comedies, are still capable of this proper give and take. I feel the finger is better pointed at more modern comedy producers, who after overpaying for talent, panic if every second of their screen time is not taken up with a laugh.

Example: I saw ANCHORMAN 2 in December, and pretty much hated on it for multiple reasons, but especially because it felt like for all the trouble it took to reunite all the principal cast from the first film, it was fully the Will Ferrell show with maybe Steve Carell getting the most significant screen time because of his increased stature, while the rest were just left to get a few sporadic moments to shine. But I went the other night to see the "763 New Jokes" alternate R-rated cut that was reissued to theatres this past weekend (in advance of the home video release), and while it still has many problems, actually liked it better, precisely because it spread more screen time and material to the supporting players, but certainly carried the perceived downside of making the movie longer. As such I could easily understand the pressures on Ferrell and director Adam McKay from all sides, and deciding to hedge their bet and sacrifice development for jokes-per-minute. John Landis has often remarked on the decision to carefully parcel out Belushi's appearances in ANIMAL HOUSE for maximum impact, and even in many of those moments, he is in concert with the primary cast, and not always getting the payoff. Landis would likely not have that option today, instead he'd surely get besieged with studio notes demanding more Bluto scenes, "because he's the star."

This is what I wish more people would dwell on when the legacy of Belushi is discussed, rather than the usual topics of his excessive behavior in films and in real life. He was described as being able to walk into a room as if he were on horseback, to pull all eyes to him. However, too many don't recognize that once he had that attention, he gladly gave it away to others. It can be as obvious as the easy rapport he enjoyed with Dan Aykroyd in their multiple movies, or sometimes not for public consumption, as when he came to support friends Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas during a press op for STRANGE BREW, and insisted on not being filmed, so that all attention could be given to the rise of the McKenzie Brothers. There was a touching testimony by the late SNL writer Michael O'Donoghue for a Rolling Stone memorial issue, where he listed five reasons why John went straight to Heaven - I can't find the original text, but two that stood out to me was that he regularly sent money to Albanian relatives he'd never met, and that he reunited his old high school band to play together for all their friends. In short, what made Belushi special was that he not only had the confidence to draw attention to himself, he had the generosity to spread the wealth around..."Oh, you think I'm funny - here's these guys I know and enjoy, you should be watching them too."

That is what I think I love most and miss so much about Belushi decades later, and the lesson I've tried to carry on from him: the notion of shared elevation, of making everyone in the scene look good. As a high school football star, he knew if you can grab that ball, then go ahead and run with it all the way to the goal, but if you got a teammate to make the pass to, trust in them to rise to the occasion.

One of the prime recipients of his comedy trust managed to go on running with the spotlight, and my heart, for over another decade. And when he unexpectedly died 12 years later, one day before Belushi's marker, and within days of another comedy legend, Bill Hicks, it made me so despondent I left a sobbing message on a friend's voice mail bemoaning, "All my heroes are dying."

Upon discovering the quasi-adult pleasures of watching "SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE" as a child, I was soon hungry for more. And I don't know how precisely it was that I found "SECOND CITY TELEVISION," later to just be "SCTV;" I guess I somehow saw it listed in the TV Guide described as a sketch comedy show, and my curiosity drove me to fiddle with the antenna to get a decent signal from the Dayton station that aired it after SNL since no Cincinnati stations carried it. But after that first episode, I was hooked. And, naturally, was the only kid on the playground talking about Count Floyd and Edith Prickley and Bobby Bittman. And, when I did get to go to that previously-mentioned taboo screening of THE BLUES BROTHERS, when a smug detective showed up where the boys were staying, I was certainly the only kid my age in the theatre to look at the screen and excitedly say, "That's John Candy!"

To this day there are plenty of people who don't care for Belushi or his work, who merely see him as a fat pampered train wreck, but there is practically nobody out there who doesn't have a kind thing to say about John Candy. His history is similar to Belushi's in terms of Second City education, ensemble performing, and public charm, and also full of outgoing gestures to friends and fans, of cooking large meals for the crew of his movies, of sitting in the cheap seats with hockey lovers who came to see the team he co-owned for several years. The popular perception is that Candy was a more sensible person than Belushi, since he lived longer, didn't abuse drugs and liquor, had a more solid marriage and raised children, and did not have a record of erratic behavior to sully his image. But as demonstrated in his final years, Candy was susceptible to the same addictive swings that Belushi was prone to, just through more socially accepted dependencies on cigarettes and food. And as such, both men reached such a need for those perceived comfort items which they inherently knew would decimate them, it put all who loved them in the position of either enabling or disengaging, and speaking from personal experience, disengagement is worse precisely because you don't know how bad things are getting.

Candy, I feel, also had a gift that is often overlooked when his body of work is discussed. Belushi only made a handful of movies, and while the greatness of some of them remain in debate (I count myself in the small but vocal rally behind NEIGHBORS), he didn't leave behind any clunkers. Candy was not as lucky; there are plenty of stiffs in his resume, including, sadly, his swan song, WAGONS EAST. But I maintain that while Candy has appeared in movies that didn't work, he never gave anything less than 100% to those roles. He could take substandard material and elevate it just enough so that you never felt like your two hours were a total waste, only a minor disappointment; you never lost your goodwill towards him, if anything you bemoaned that the rest of the movie didn't deserve him. As a tweener, I thought GOING BERSERK was a neglected masterpiece, and even though through my adult eyes, I can see how threadbare and misbegotten it is, I remember his scenes and I'm still laughing. Candy could sell like a champ: he could take a tired predictable punchline and make it gold, like this one from another misfire, ONCE UPON A CRIME:

"Why, you married for money!"
"That sir, is an outrage! I married for lots of money! Huhuhuhuhuhuh!"
(seriously, that classic Johnny LaRue laughing-verging-on-sobbing is irresistible)

Selling when the ship is sinking is another lost art. It's not that there aren't devoted actors today who try to make the best out of lousy material, but ultimately they come off as too guarded or too desperate. Somehow, Candy was always eminently watchable no matter how badly everything else was turning out. You can try to just blame it on '80's nostalgia, but I guarantee you 10 years from now there will be more people watching ARMED AND DANGEROUS than, say, THE WATCH, and I'll stand on Ben Stiller's coffee table in my Chuck Taylors and say that.

Ultimately, Belushi and Candy were brothers from another mother. They were friends, excellent team players, men who challenged conventional notions of attraction, and engendered enormous audience affections that continue long after their departure. For whatever vices they picked up that should have been left behind, perhaps even those were simply part of how they treated their art and their lives, from the cardinal rules that everyone is taught to do in improvisation: say yes, explore, and heighten. And in the best moments, and the detrimental moments, they kept to that standard.

Belushi would have been 65 and Candy would have been 63 today. And they would have been as grief-stricken as we have been at the recent loss of their friend Harold Ramis. As all three of them were when Doug Kenney inexplicably departed before properly enjoying the success of the movies he co-wrote with or for them.

In his exploration on Belushi's legacy, Roger Ebert observed, "Tragedy is when you know not only what was, but what could have been." That's why my elders have not forgotten the shock of their fallen heroes, nor I mine. I think if there is a difference, it's because, well, if the two Johns stuck around a little longer, we would have had a lot more laughs in the world. And we're always going to need those.

But thankfully, we have what they left behind, which is still a lot of great stuff.

Little Chocolate Donuts will always be the donuts of champions!

And Johnny LaRue will always be NOT GAY!

Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Coming Attractions of Twenty Heaventeen

If there is anything that truly deep-in-the-stop-bath film lovers secretly, or not-so-secretly, love to do, it's imagine the dream movies their heroes would make if by some miracle said obsessive was greenlighting projects. Seattle's long-running alternative weekly The Stranger used to have a wonderful series of Photoshopped advertisements touting fake "lost" movies by dead filmmakers, suggesting that Orson Welles had done a drama about corruption in boxing or Sam Peckinpah managed to get one last bloody western made. When beloved New Beverly Cinema founder Sherman Torgan died in 2007, Patton Oswalt paid tribute with a wonderfully poignant "film festival" of, as he put it, "never weres, could-have-beens, and the lost." Certainly among the millions who enjoyed last year's Academy Award winner ARGO were those who were busy imagining what the fake movie at the heart of its plot could have looked like were it shot. And one of the most anticipated movies of the new year is JODOROWSKY'S DUNE, a documentary about the ambitious, and ultimately futile, attempt by the legendary director of EL TOPO to adapt the dense Frank Herbert sci-fi epic before its ultimate compromised version years later by David Lynch.

As such, I'm not immune from these fantasies, and during some slow nights this past holiday season, when I needed to economize and couldn't justify going out to the movies nor muster interest in what I had on DVD at home, I thus came up with a list of bogus blockbusters of the future that I would lurve to see. As much as I often dream of a world where the directors I love that are currently stuck working network television and teaching classes would get million dollar budgets again, and Michael Bay would have to hold a bake sale just to shoot a SnapChat photo, on this occasion I chose to stick to writers and directors currently active and "hot" right now, for the same reason that George Carlin and Billy Heeny "thought about" girls in the neighborhood: it seems more possible. At least a few of the talents in question have indeed visited in here in the past, so maaaaaaaaybeeeeee this might spark some imagination to make these a reality in the not-too-distant-future, next Summer A.D.

(That being said, aside from novel adaptations, let's consider these pitches under common-law-copyright to me; if I discover you horking these concepts the way you horked Quentin's HATEFUL EIGHT script, you'll be hearing from my attorneys at the law offices of John, Jacob, Jingleheimer, and Schmidt.)

RED LORRY, YELLOW LAURIE - written and directed by Edgar Wright

An English long-distance truck driver (Nick Frost) is forced to share his cab with a slimy efficiency expert (Nick Kroll) from the American corporation he delivers for. They must, however, work together when their route crosses paths with the dangerous "Burma-Shave Killer" and one of his escaped targets (Jaime Winstone).

WE HAVE A SAVIOR - written and directed by Asia Argento

The Shaggs were easily the most unconventional pop act of the late '60's, three sisters practically forced into making music by their spiritually-motivated father. As such, under the vision of Argento, their story is bifurcated into an initially straightforward account of the drama behind their sole album, followed by a wild speculative alternate history about the worldwide success that had been dreamed of in their inception, including an explosive appearance on Italian television featuring cameos by Ellen Page and Argento herself as popular European chanteuses Rita Pavone and Mina. In exchange for financing this project, Argento agreed to come out of acting retirement to appear in...

xXx: E PLURIBUS BURNEM - written and directed by John Hyams

When NSA Agent Augustus Gibbons (Samuel L. Jackson) is murdered under impenetrable means, Agent Darius Stone (Ice Cube) is promoted to his position, and his first order of business is to locate the falsely-believed-dead Xander Cage (Vin Diesel) and his ally KGB agent Yelena (Asia Argento) to investigate this mystery. Once found, they are thrust into a deep penetration mission in Turkey involving bankrupted Greek industrialists, Armenian militants, and the Arab Spring, with a much-too-genial street bootlegger (Jason Mantzoukas) the apparent link to the impending carnage.

THE SATURDAYS - written for the screen by Diablo Cody, directed by Lorene Scafaria

Elizabeth Enright's beloved series of books about the four precocious Melendy children in pre-World War II New York City begins with the siblings agreeing to pool their otherwise small allowances so that once a week, one of the four can go off to have a unique Saturday afternoon to remember. And as the eldest seeks to present herself as more adult, the middle two explore high art, and the youngest discovers how to make the large-looming city smaller and more navigable, they all bond in what their singular explorations have brought to their collective growth.

MAFIA KINGPIN - written for the screen and directed by Rian Johnson

In 1981, Sonny Gibson wrote a purported autobiography called MAFIA KINGPIN, casting himself as a connected hitman, drug-smuggler, and well-paid male prostitute who turned his life around in prison. But years later, a court case proved he and his failed pop-star/co-author/girlfriend Reparata Mazzola were none of those things, just small-time con artists. But for decades, they continued to ply this fake legacy into film projects and business deals that swindled hundreds. Johnson hilariously yet sincerely contrasts the real-life career of Gibson and Mazzola to the outrageous fantasy of big time crimes they documented in their fictionalized book, to illustrate how and why such a wild tale could be conceived by them, and sold to others.

FEAR OF FLYING - written for the screen and directed by Lena Dunham

After decades of false starts and being considered near-unfilmable, Erica Jong's influential novel finally reaches the screen. Isadora Wing (Alison Brie) is a working published poet in the '70's feeling herself overwhelmed by an unsatisfying marriage, lack of respect from her peers, troubling reactions from readers of her work, and her constant conflicted sexual desires, exemplified in her obsession with finding the mythical "zipless fuck," the perfect unburdened encounter with a stranger. And on a globetrotting voyage for academic and personal purposes, she learns even more complicated details about the new sexual freedom and her place within it.

KING AND JESTER - written and directed by Robbie Pickering

In the early '60's, the two biggest stars working for Paramount under canny producer Hal B. Wallis (Bill Murray) were Elvis Presley (Channing Tatum) and Jerry Lewis (Josh Fadem). When studio president Barney Balaban (Bob Balaban, playing his own father) suggests teaming them up for a movie, everyone agrees this is a natural pairing. So why did the movie never get made? This comedic mystery suggests that shady dealings by the infamous Colonel Tom Parker (Toby Jones) and some military secrets inadvertently picked up in Germany during Elvis' mandatory Army service, not to mention the wild offscreen antics of both stars, may hold the keys to the Greatest Teaming Never Told.

THE ANGRY GRIFFITH SHOW - written and directed by Ava DuVernay

Race relations and cinematic sacred cows are mercilessly satirized as a media production student (John Boyega) at a Southern college, irritated when his objections to prolonged hagiography of BIRTH OF A NATION are blown off by his pompous professor (Glenn Howerton), decides to get even by writing and directing a savage mock "making-of" the film as his final project for the class. But when he challenges himself to use the same technological limitations as would have been in place at the dawn of feature filmmaking, the ambitious plan begins to overwhelm him, as he himself runs afoul of campus p.c. enforcers uncomfortable with his editorial decisions, and the stress causes him to repeatedly have hallucinations of D.W. Griffith himself (Tim Roth) taunting him. He soon fears that he may not be able to make his artistic statement without also becoming memorialized in infamy.

FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM - written for the screen and directed by Shane Carruth

The dense and confounding novel by NAME OF THE ROSE author Umberto Eco is adapted by the director responsible for two mind-scrambling fantasies of his own. Three men working for a small publishing house amuse themselves by trying to link every popular conspiracy theory, shadow organization, and other assorted urban legends into one master conspiracy. Gradually, however, they begin to believe in their own connections, and other mysterious groups start coming out of the shadows who believe in the unification even more so than them, and demand they deliver answers that the three did not plan for when they first started coming up with "The Plan."

DEBORAH'S DYNASTY - written and directed by Quentin Tarantino

In early 20th century New York, an immigrant runaway (Saoirse Ronan) is torn between keeping a dead-end seamstress job and joining the rising Suffragette movement. But after a series of brutal murders of women remain unsolved by a less-than-aggressive police, and a deadly fire kills hundreds at her factory but the rich proprietors elude justice, she is drawn into a secret all-female vigilante society named for the Biblical warrior judge, who intends to punish all those who are profiting from the abuse of women. As their notoriety spreads, the forces that want to end them come closing in, including that uncaptured serial killer. The surprising conclusion to the "Right Side of History/Wrong Side of an Asskicking" trilogy also stars Colleen Camp, Carol Lynley, Sybill Danning, and Emily Lloyd as Nellie Bly.

That's enough fantasy film foolishness for this entry. Intermission time.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

In Just Seven Frames, I Can Make You a Cineaste

(or: Fuck Film School, Let's Get Drunk And Eat Meatloaf!)

You there! With the stack of black T-shirts and the $75 Blu-Ray player you got on Black Friday! Did you go to that revival screening of a favorite '80's movie and find yourself surrounded by bitter bloggers in junket hoodies and Teva sandals mocking you because you didn't know the difference between the KICKING AND SCREAMING with Chris Eigeman and the KICKING AND SCREAMING with Will Ferrell? Did you sign up for a what you thought was a production class at your college only to spend hours having some deranged Eastern European drone about how Anton LaVey cockblocked him over Maya Deren? Do you just want a little head start in learning the lingua franca of film geeks so that you can hold your own in 2a.m. Denny's debates and not get sent over to sit in the other booth with Mohammad, Jugdish, Sydney, and Clayton and listen to them badly recite the same "BIG BANG THEORY" quotes again?

Sure, you know plenty of the names that everybody knows in the film industry, but the reason why is because we hear those names repeatedly on a regular basis, on TV, in gossip magazines, critics lists, etc. And they're mostly new movies, directors, stars, the occasional screenwriter, etc. How can you get familiar with all those really geeky names and titles that separate the players from potzers, and how do you know which ones of those are going to carry weight and which ones will just clutter your head?

Believe it or not, there's a great way to hotwire the process, and in all likelihood, it's happening at a Friday or Saturday midnight show near you, if not this weekend, then sometime this month. You won't need to open a book, just your mind...and maybe your shirt, if you're a first-timer and get collared into a Virgin Sacrifice. That's right, just going to THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW on a regular basis will help you get a leg up on the pile and teach you about some behind-the-scenes technicians in modern film you should be appreciating. And all for less than the cost of one Learning Annex lecture, plus you get to hang around people that have actually had sex.

First off, when the movie starts, you're already getting a roll call of some of the most memorable movies, characters, and talent that shaped so many imaginative minds in their wake. It's a shopping list you don't need to write down because you can sing it to yourself as easily as "A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter." And granted, we're still waiting on a properly restored edition of DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS, but almost everything else Richard O'Brien sings about is easily found on DVD, usually pops up on Turner Classic Movies, and even gets screened every so often in better revival theatres. You can get extra help from watching this video, where one intrepid soul went to the trouble of recreating O'Brien's originally scripted concept of opening the film using film clips instead of red lips:

"Aha, but what about all the audience yelling? Isn't that going to impede whatever constructive information I could receive?" Well, callbacks vary from city to city, but if they're anything like what I learned to shout out when I was fully immersed in the scene, they often actually help draw attention to the guys you oughta know.


"How do you say 'shit' in Polish?"

Peter Suschitzky was the cinematographer for THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK, MARS ATTACKS, and has the distinction of shooting every David Cronenberg film since DEAD RINGERS in 1988. Now that's some shit!

"The editor greamed on Clifford!"

Graeme Clifford apprenticed under the great Robert Altman, doing second-unit work on McCABE AND MRS. MILLER and editing on IMAGES. He also edited two of the most-acclaimed films of cult director Nicolas Roeg, DON'T LOOK NOW and THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH. He went on to become a director himself, helping steer Jessica Lange to her first Academy Award nomination for Best Actress in FRANCES, and immortalizing Christian Slater in skater-punk glory in GLEAMING THE CUBE.

 "Smoke La Roche! Smoke La Roche!"

Pierre La Roche only has a couple cultural credits, but they're pretty big. As makeup artist for David Bowie, he came up with the iconic Ziggy Stardust third eye and lightning bolt look, which, naturally, was immortalized in D.A. Pennebaker's concert document ZIGGY STARDUST AND THE SPIDERS FROM MARS, has been copied and parodied for decades, and is probably being aped on a T-shirt at a Hot Topic franchise. As an actor, he appeared in the film referred to as Canada's version of EASY RIDER, GOIN' DOWN THE ROAD; that may not impress any of your Yank friends, but if you find yourself with a couple Canucks, just start talking to them about how you heard Toronto's got jobs, and watch 'em reply, "JOBS? WHOO-HOO!"

"Fuck the roach! Go for the Snow!"

Terry Ackland-Snow has provided art direction for some of the most indelible movie moments of your adolescence. Three Jim Henson projects (including THE DARK CRYSTAL and LABYRINTH), three D.C. superheroes (SUPERMAN II + III, SUPERGIRL, and BATMAN), and one James Bond outing (THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS). And when Dr. Scott blurts out "ALIENS!" during the boring dinner scene, well, yes, Snow worked on that James Cameron epic as well.

"Look, Ward; it's Wally and the Veevers!"
"And Colin always gives me the Chilvers!"

The late Wally Veevers has the distinction of actually working on two of the movies name-checked in "Science Fiction Double Feature": CURSE OF THE DEMON ("Dana Andrews said prunes gave him the runes...") and DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS ("I really got hot when I saw Janette Scott fight a Triffid..."). He also provided visual effects for Stanley Kubrick in DR. STRANGELOVE and 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, invented some of the photographic trickery for SUPERMAN, did uncredited effects work on LAWRENCE OF ARABIA and Kenneth Anger's LUCIFER RISING, and before his death in 1983, lent his services to two of that year's best films, THE KEEP and LOCAL HERO.

Colin Chilvers, meanwhile, collaborated with Wally Veevers on four other movies, including SUPERMAN (for which he and his team won a Special Achievement Academy Award), and, on his own, was special effects director for SUPERMAN II + III and FOLLOW THAT BIRD, and special effects coordinator for BRIDE OF CHUCKY and the first X-MEN film. 
Oh, and have you ever seen that music video of Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal"? He directed that. From a Sweet T to a Smooth C - that's T.C.B.!

There you go. Now, the next time some Comic-Con cornflake tries to pull rank on you, you can show him who's Boss.

"Wait, that wasn't seven frames!" you say. Okay, fine, so I lied. Guess what, Charles Atlas lied to you too: his real name was Angelo Siciliano. Go call the human race and cry about it, provided you can find a castle with a phone!

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

By One, Get the One Three

(press play to get the full effect of this opening)

"On June 11th, 2013, Marc Edward Heuck was asked to remove himself from his place of employment. That request came from the corporate office. Deep down, he knew they were right, but he also knew it was a lousy deal after 14 years of service. With few 35mm venues to be found, he looked in on the friends whose dual-projection booths were intact, and sporadically gave them a turn. Can an untimely-job-divorced movie geek subsist in his apartment, without driving himself crazy?"

Yep. It was kinda like that this year, without the Neil Hefti score. My first summer as a free man in Hollywood was an event that was overdue yet still felt undue, but it did yield quite a lot of unique adventure in its wake. It's a most complicated knot of emotions, to have happy opportunity tied up in the hemp strands with frustration and loss, and it's always going to be there even as I theoretically go forth and get wished well in my future endeavors. But to paraphrase Penny Lane, when it gets lonely, you go to the movies and visit your friends. And while I'm not going to join the hype parade suggesting 2013 is another 1939, I gotta say that yet again, this year has had way more good movie experiences than bad ones. I dare say three years into this new decade and there's already an awful lot of bonafide classics stacking up.

A perfect lead-in, thus, for my special Jury Prize of the year: György Pálfi's overwhelming FINAL CUT - LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. Using pieces of 450 different movies and TV shows, it takes the familiar tragectories of the classic stories we've enjoyed on screen - courtship, conflict, and reconciliation - and takes all the many different ways, different faces, different genres that have been used in these endeavors, to demonstrate just how universal this human comedy truly remains. It can't be categorized as merely a clip reel, montage, or mash-up; it's everybody's love story about love AND about the movies. It will likely never get a home video release due to the insane clearances it would require, so if you are passionate about those flickery images on the screen as I am, and are lucky enough to find it in a festival or museum presentation (or, if you must, find it in a darkened lockbox on the internet that can be picked and torrented), let nothing impede you from taking a deep swim in its pool of cinema history.

I'm also throwing in a "Runaway Jury" Prize for my single-most enjoyable off-the-rails movie experience of the year: Tyler Perry's TEMPTATION: CONFESSIONS OF A MARRIAGE COUNSELOR. This is not a movie that was made with any kind of coherence, real-world experience, or understanding of human they say in the science community, it's not even wrong. But dammit, I went to see this THREE TIMES because no other movie could match it for sheer Martian entertainment value. It's like watching a Skinemax erotic thriller written and directed by a teenager at a Christian youth retreat who didn't actually get to see one, but had one described to him by an uncle who watched the scrambled signal from an old ON-TV converter box: you can't hate the sinner because he obviously has no idea what the sin is in the first place!

And seeing as how movies are my church, let's start with some indulgences.

Ten worthwhile films nobody saw but me:

A Band Called Death
Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me
From the Head
Gimme the Loot
The Silence
The We and The I

And with that out of the way, let us begin the Stations of the Crosscut: the Top 13 of 2013







7. HER







On a sadly somber note, I would like to dedicate this post to Jen Roach, a longtime friendly eager face that for years could be found at the New Beverly Cinema supporting all manner of screenings, be they high art, low comedy, or deep horror. Her visits became more infrequent in the last couple years, mostly due to raising a son, but also, unbeknownst to many of us, because of much harsher health problems that shockingly claimed her life this past Monday. She should have had decades worth of family time and return visits ahead of her. One of our other mutual regulars, Cathie Horlick, posted a wonderful memorial at her Tumblr.

When you are a hardcore cinemagoer like myself, you often see the same people at the same venues, and when that happens, they'll either reinforce your sense of community or make you feel even more alone and isolated. Jen fell firmly into the former camp: we rarely socialized outside of the moviehouse, but anytime we were in that darkened auditorium we were family. We can only pray that over time, her seat will be filled with someone else who loves the movies as much and as often as her.

So if and when you watch a movie in company with someone this holiday, give them an extra hug please.