For the Twin Cities film community, Terry Blue was a fixture at theaters around town. You couldn’t miss him: red haired, moving at clip that suggested he had important places to go (he would probably say that your theater was … Continue reading
I have been having dreams about the oil spill. I never see the oil, never touch it in my dreams, but it’s there. Standing on the shores of some southern beach, in Florida or Louisiana or Alabama (I’m not sure), … Continue reading
“When people see Boudu Saved From Drowning or L’Atalante for the first time, they sometimes ask ‘Was Michel Simon really like that?’ –David Thomson The answer, as Thomson points out, is somewhere between yes and no. Michel Simon is one … Continue reading
How do they do it? The good people who bring us alternative cinema, who plead and entreat their fellow citizens to give up a good day to attend something as magical as The James River Film Festival? Smoke and mirrors, … Continue reading
The Night of the Hunter, 1955. Directed by Charles Laughton, written by James Agee (and an uncredited Laughton.) Starring Billy Chapin, Robert Mitchum, Shelley Winters, Lillian Gish, James Gleason, Evelyn Varden (so I annoying I want to take Preacher’s switchblade … Continue reading
My Dad tells me of this place he calls “The Secret City”. The Secret City doesn’t exist in one place–in fact, it exists in many places, all over the world. It is that wonderful store or restaurant that does something … Continue reading
I have a rather cantankerous connection with the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. By this I mean that I complain about the Hall and the Hall goes about its business ignoring curmudgeonly types like myself. I was … Continue reading
The great news: Detroit Tigers 8, New York Yankees 4. That’s a sweep for my favorite nine. I was at last night’s game, an utterly miserable evening spent in the upper deck in right field (actually my favorite seats in … Continue reading
New York City. Like Chicago, I’m having a blast, but unfortunately like Chicago I and my little book can’t entice anyone to attend these readings. My agent, Paul Bresnick, was there, as was Walter Vatter, my publicist at Ivan R. … Continue reading
Every place looks pretty much the same when it’s raining endlessly. Minnesota and Wisconsin. Rural Illinois and the suburban wasteland of Chicago. Michigan. Ontario. Upstate New York. Flatlands, farms, industry, and all their trappings, from the barns to the truck … Continue reading