Cheers to the creative among us

Many years ago, back in the 70s, I used to travel to New York at least once a year, sometimes twice -- to see movies. Were there no movie theatres is Richmond, VA, you ask; well, yes, of course there were. But, for the most part they only played Hollywood product. I was on the hunt for foreign films and art films, the kind that would not play in Richmond.

On one particularly obsessive day I saw five films. Yes, five. I saw the first at noon, the second at 2 or so and another at 4:30; that’s not that hard to do in New York; there are neighborhoods with several movie theatres. After a dinner break I saw an 8pm showing and another at 10. A friend of mine joined me for the first and last film and after it we were sitting in a bar, recalling the day. I can recall the conversation. “Remember that scene in, uh, uh – what WAS that movie?” I remembered the scene, but my mind was so jumbled I couldn’t remember what movie it was from.

I learned that five movies a day is just two many, probably by three.

The point of all this is to establish my cred. I have a history of loving films and of seeing a lot of them. I’d always watch the Oscars because I had seen most of the movies nominated and so had a horse in the race. I could talk film for hours and populate my conversation with names like Godard, Antonioni, Chabrol, Bergman and, my favorite, Truffaut. I even had favorite movie theatres in New York: the Paris, across from the Plaza Hotel, and the 68th Street Playhouse. I’d go see whatever was playing at either, even if I had never heard of it.

So, as you can imagine, I saw lots of movies over the holiday break: Lincoln, Life of Pi, Zero Dark Thirty, Skyfall, Silver Linings Playbook, Les Misérables and The Hobbit.

You can imagine that, but you’d be wrong. I didn’t see any of those, though I read about each and every one and wanted to see them all.

I did see one movie the other night, but it’s doubtful you’ve ever heard of it: The Sadist. This is not the 1963 indie that has a certain reputation, but a new film made by a group of people from Waterbury, just up the road from my house. The son of a good friend of mine co-wrote the film, and had a small role, so I went to show my support.

It is not the worst film I’ve ever seen, not by a long shot, but it’s not great. The production values are poor – ex: the lighting is abysmally dark, especially in interior shots – and, as in most slasher movies, the plot line is incredible, in the sense of “not believable.”

The point though is that my friend’s son, and his colleagues, made a movie. How many of us can say that? How many of us have made any contribution to the cultural life of our neighbors? Certainly not I.

I have been fortunate enough to marry an artist and through him I have met many other creative people, but most people I know are not creative, or, if they are, they have not followed their creative dreams, and I know them as work colleagues or office workers or sales people.

So, hats off to the folks behind The Sadist. I hope that the movie improves with further work, finds a distributor and meets with success on the indie film circuit. Maybe someday I can say wistfully “I knew him when…”