Contributor. Commentary track with historian Howard S. Berger
That covers the stuff that has been announced. There's more I've completed that is yet to be announced. I ask the visitor to this blog to give me an inch of patience before I can reveal when these future releases will be put out.
Oh yes, and amidst all the preparation and negotiation and writing and waiting and hurrying up and waiting and hurrying up that these enterprises entailed, I went out to see lots and lots of movies too. So after you're done consuming all my offerings, these are what you seek out next.
Ten Worthwhile Films Nobody Saw But Me
Black-Eyed Susan
Chasing Chasing Amy
Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World
The Feeling that the Time for Doing Something Has Passed
The 4:30 Movie
I Used to be Funny
The Instigators
Oddity
Snack Shack
The Three Summers
Alright, light the Xenons if you got 'em: the Top 13 of 2024
13. FLOW
12. RED ROOMS
11. ANORA
10. CHRISTMAS EVE IN MILLER'S POINT
9. LOVE LIES BLEEDING
8. BLITZ
7. MEGALOPOLIS
6. THE PEOPLE'S JOKER
5. FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA
4. THE SEED OF THE SACRED FIG
3. HUNDREDS OF BEAVERS
2. THE BRUTALIST
1. I SAW THE TV GLOW
Seeing how I had been contemplating my mixed feelings about blowing my horn amidst a collective rising groan, I have to reflect on how this year, a very forceful voice who would have told me to can the modesty got silenced. Indeed, he may well have been my greatest hype man. He went to the trouble of telling the world (or at least, the world within his Facebook feed) at great length why he thought I was worth it.
December 13, 2013
MARC EDWARD HEUCK
A summer day, sunshine falling bright and hard on Cincinnati, the smell of chlorine and coconut oil and cooking hot dogs in the air around Clifton Meadows Swim Club. I am perhaps 11, so it is 1978-ish. This crazy, dorky kid, a year or so my junior, has produced a newspaper from the ugly brown Samsonite briefcase he lugs everywhere. The newspaper's banner headline screams:
"MACHO" MARC HEUCK TO APPEAR IN PLAYGIRL!!!
Macho Marc, himself, parades the dummied-up paper, something from some Upper Penninsula tourist pit, all around the Meadows. He vehemently insists the paper is real, the story true.
Marc Heuck knows how to make an impression. No one who meets Marc ever forgets it. I have not.
That was not my first encounter with Marc. Both Clifton kids, his grandparents owned the elegant brownstone apartment house right next to the rowhouse where my childhood friend, Tommy Wells. lived. Tommy and I would see Marc as he arrived with his mom and say hi and then he'd go inside.
Marc was a Catholic kid, meaning he went to Annunciation School, not Clifton Elementary. Meaning once I switched to Lottspiech in 4th grade and stopped palling around with Tommy, I did not see Marc much. Except for summer, either at the Meadows or the rec center's day camp.
As you might guess, a little kid lugging an old Samsonite briefcase around, so crammed full of comics and papers and who-knew-what he listed to starboard as he walked, was not King Kool around the 'hood. Marc ate shit breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And sometimes, I helped feed him.
When we were kids, there was no nerd unity, no nerd power. We were marked, culled from the herd, and taken down. I wanted to be popular, accepted, cool way too much to treat Marc well. I saw everything I was ashamed of in myself in Marc. And he had the gall to be proud, to be his dorky self with no apology. How dare he, right?
Marc, perhaps so inured to his status he saw nothing to lose, fought back. He gave as good as he got, nailing me in the nuts right after I nailed him, at morning assembly at Fort Scott in the summer of '84.
I am not remotely proud of my behavior back when. I am quite proud to say that Marc is of such impeccable character he looked past all that when I transferred to Bacon at the start of junior year. I needed a friend. Marc stepped up and offered his hand. That hand has not been withdrawn since.
Marc Heuck is an estimable man.
The next two years, Marc and I were tight. Both in Drama Guild, where I cast him as the lead in my student-directed segment of the Fall '85 play. Marc was not a natural actor. I was a tyrannical director. But Marc gave his all, and he nailed it.
We shared all the pain, the frustration of forever hearing "Let's just be friends" from the girls we pursued, regardless of our geekdom. I got Marc drunk for his first time at the St. Rita festival the summer after I graduated. Later that night, Marc hurled while drunk the first time. In my toilet. Rarely have I seen the man move so fast.
We vacationed together. We went to movies together. We tried to get a show on WAIF together. A mix of comedic bits and alt rock, we would have been ahead of our time.
Marc and I saw less of each other after high school, of course. He went to OSU, to film school, and I went all over the place. But Marc stayed in touch, seeing me pretty much anytime he was in town. During his too-brief eun as the Movie Geek on Comedy Central's Beat the Geeks I got to go out and see him in LA, where he still lives. Success did not faze Marc. I am not sure he knew he was successful. And that is my man, all the way.
It is not easy, being a professional iconoclast, even in this age of Geek Chic. Marc pays a price to be himself, not always happily, but he has been at it a long time and he endures. He is a thoroughbred.
He is my friend. And he is absolutely King Kool.
Russ, the last thing this world needs now are kings. And frankly, there's a little too much Too Kool for School going on as well. Thus, I respectfully relinquish this title; may it lay next to your resting soul as a token of a simpler, happier time.
The last DM you sent me, on June 29, we were talking about weird things that scared us as kids, cryptids and closing TV logos, and you came up with this inspired statement:
"I think: that's how it is to be a kid - the imagination is in the driver's seat. All kinds of weird shit is scary, and no amount of parental reassurance can conquer those fears."
You never forgot about that time. Consequently, there's a lot I will remember of our decades.
"Friends of mine prefer animals to man. That's ok. Man betrays. Driven by multifold fears, he hurts and kills, destroys beauty, ravages nature. Strangely, this is why I prefer man. He never fails to fascinate and amaze. Conversely, man creates work like the Watts Towers, beauty wrought from waste. He writes poetry, paints, sculpts, sings, plays the guitar solos on 'Marquee Moon.' He loves. He yearns, moves, discovers. He is never not interesting. Fish never wrote 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.' Rabbits never wondered how to reach the moon."
- Charles Edward Russell Wait II Russ Wait, Nov. 24, 1967 - July 15, 2024