Ostensibly, 2022 presented me to the world as a man of leisure, if not yet of influence. I am in the happy position of not having to do a damned thing that I don't care to, at least not in anyone else's service. There are things I would have just as soon rather not done, such as the surprises left dormant by the previous occupant of my childhood home that I had to reckon with. But today, I can shrug, settle the matter, and move on comfortably. That is a luxury I did not have not so long ago, and I am a lucky man to be in this state of being, especially when far too many are not.
I would love to tell you about what particularly made 2022 a special year for me, but...
...you'll just have to trust me, it was really awesome.
I can talk about a smaller but respectively awesome event: after lobbying what seemed in vain for over a decade, I was able to witness my valued friend Philippe Mora saw his wonderfully eccentric and earnest 1983 film THE RETURN OF CAPTAIN INVINCIBLE - a film I've gone to the mat for going two decades - get the bells-and-whistles Blu-Ray edition it's deserved. And I had the honor of conducting a long-form, full-career interview with him that is among the bonus features on this release. I relish any opportunity to speak for posterity on physical media, and I've long wanted to contribute to the legacy of tremendous presentations that the Severin label is known for.
But in the immortally mangled words of the otherwise forgotten Jane & Goodman Ace, you have to take the bitter with the batter. And one of the harsh millstones of living past 50 is the rise in obits that affect you directly. There was way too much loss in my life. A high school crush died. Several artists I revered died. And two important friends in my regular life died.
Clu Gulager was one of the first people I grew up watching on TV who, when I made the pilgrimage to Los Angeles, I had the outstanding fortune to befriend. If you ever found yourself driving around Hollywood, or having a late snack at Canter's or Astro Burger, or catching a midnight movie, you likely crossed paths with him.
Native American
Gallant cowboy
Generous actor
Genial raconteur
Fearless artist
Innovative teacher
L.A. legend
In a properly spiritual world, every cinema should keep a front row seat empty for Clu Gulager, like having a seat for Elijah at the Passover seder.
When it often seemed like every physical media label had their own in-house version of me already to work on their special features, Bill Olsen gave me opportunity when nobody else wanted me, and I owe him. I've had a long, wild history with him and his Code Red Blu/DVD label, involving a lot of loud late night phone calls, effectively begging for his cinematic scraps to build my exposure, and having to helplessly watch him try to burn every bridge in the home video business. But as Harlan Ellison once observed, when you've been made an outcast, you are always angry. And Bill was, well, mostly known for his outbursts, living his life like a spite house. We would yell at each other, and a minute later be laughing at old inside jokes. He didn't have a lot of friends, so the fact that I kept his trust and he mostly had my back was important to us both. And as I got what precious few insights I could into his background, I think the only reciprocated love he ever had in his life was with the movies.
Passings weren't limited to the corporeal realm. My house boiler died. My garage plumbing had been long dead, I learned too late, which led to some crazy winter flooding, which almost killed the car sitting inside it. That car died later last summer of unrelated engine issues. But again, when confronted, I mutter, then I laugh, then I fix the problem. 'tis what grown-ups do.
And after a' that, I went to the movies. A lot. And from there, comes The Top 13 of 2022.
"We need to laugh, we need to be scared, we need to hug our girl in the theater. It lightens the load of this crummy life."
"Those with obsessions never learn. Those with a compulsion to make films are fucked in the beginning, fucked in the middle, and fucked in the end. You can call it madness, you can call it being an artist, or you can call it ruining your life. But we have not learned one God-damned thing."