Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Did this happen to me?

After a long day of trying to see past personalities yesterday, I tried to go to a movie.
There was a time when I would go see everything. The cinema was my church. I'd see a second-run double bill and sneak into a third movie later that same day. This started when I was ten. My mother ran off with her biker husband to Arizona and my dad was bartending at some tavern on SE Powell. I was shacking up in a little travel trailer in his girlfriend's parent's backyard out on SE 82nd and Flavel, otherwise known as Felony Flats. When my mom came to her senses and returned to Portland, she was working three jobs and I was almost six feet tall, so it made sense to people that I was wandering around Portland by myself on TriMet going to movies.
I liked it all -- Bruce Lee, Richard Pryor-Gene Wilder escapades, Rocky I, II and III, teen movies, Scorcese (though I didn't know him by name and that he made two of my late 70s favorite at that age). Name a movie released between 1977 and 1992 and I probably saw it on the big screen. Xanadu, check. Midnight Run, check. Heavy Metal, check x3. My Bodyguard, check. Gallilopi, check x3, Fort Apache the Bronx, check. Raging Bull, check x4, Wolfen, check. Good Guys Wear Black, check. We could go on.
Some movies fascinated me so much that I stayed in the theater and watched them a second time. Blues Brothers, Flashdance, Diner and The Jerk are some of my single sitting-double views. I did this at my third or fourth visit to the Westgate in Beaverton (I lived in NE Portland) to see Star Wars in 1977. There were lines circling the parking lot and there was strict crowd control. I was told I had to leave for the next showing. I concocted an elaborate tale of vomiting in the bathroom for the second half of the movie and I'd already called my mom to pick me up in two more hours…
I didn't really know I loved movies. I just went to the movies a lot. And I acted them out by myself and at school. Playing Travis Bickle to my fifth grade class provoked a meeting with my mom in the principal's office. I played Rocky and Grease out alone at home afterschool for hours, days and months on end.
I ordered soundtracks from Columbia Record Club and never paid the bill. I'd forgotten so much of this until now. Whew.
I travel down memory lane for many reasons, one of which is to substantiate my love for going to the movies. But I got to tell you, I don't go much anymore. There's nothing to see. Nothing I want to spend two hours and eleven dollars on. (I'm in LA, remember.) It's not the money. $5.50 an hour for entertainment is a great deal. I understand the economics of the inflated popcorn and soda prices as well, I'm happy to support the movie-going experience completely. But I don't want to squirm and sigh and curse to myself as I'm held prisoner by relentless stylized tripe for two hours. I went through that with Danny Boyle's Millions the other night.
So I'm searching for a movie. I'm ready to drive out to Pasadena if need be. Nothing. Na Da.
Until I hit the Sunset 5, which is right down the street and I'm not sure how I missed it in the first five minutes of my search. A movie called Dallas 362. The storyline jumps out at me and sounds familiar. I smile and then I panic. It's remarkably close to the tagline of the film that I'm trying to get made. Click. Click. To the homepage. Set in Texas. Two friends. An older mentor. Quick. Quick. I've heard of this shit happening. No way. No way it's happening to me. I'm reading the list of producers. No familiar names. Production companies. No crossover. Okay. Okay. Maybe it's not happening ot me. Let's watch the trailer. Phew. Very different film. I'm going to go see it today. It ends tomorrow. Only opened for a week here. Didn't open in NY. I don't read Variety every day, but I do read indiewire daily and I keep my ear to the ground for projects like this. It got by me as well as the producer in New York that has had it for the past year.
I meant to talk about that relationship in Lealta… as well. His option on Original Glory expired yesterday. (I don't waste time) Great guy. Smart. He helped me develop the script a great deal, but he wasn't ever willing to put it out there for some reason. I could have just let the option quietly expire and pursued these new opportunities unencumbered, but I called him and reminded him of its expiry and what was cooking on my end. I gave him the opportunity to fight for it. He didn't.
He did, however, express regret at not being able to have it both ways.

like a big pizza pie,
signore direttore

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