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Thanksgiving
is considered the unofficial kickoff for the holiday movie
season.
"Some
things in life are bad.
They
can really make you mad.
Other
things just make you swear and curse.
When
you're chewing on life's
gristle,
Don't
grumble, give a whistle!
And
this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...always
look on the bright side of life!"
--from
The Life
of Brian
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A few months ago, David Walker and I wrote an angry manifesto
against the numerous annoyances--audience chatter, cell phones,
prolonged Pepsi ads--spoiling our fun at the movies. There's
still a lot to be fed up with, but on the eve of Thanksgiving,
Willie Nelson's words suddenly ring true: "When I started
counting my blessings, my whole life turned around." Remember
that moment late in Manhattan, when Woody Allen recounts
all the things that make life worth living as a remedy for
his broken heart? Or better yet, think of the crucified Monty
Python players in The Life of Brian, singing "Always
Look on the Bright Side of Life." In that spirit, Willamette
Week looks for the silver lining on silver screens:
The Last Picture Shows
A great movie theater is both a shelter and a shrine, where
we can tune out our troubles by tuning into worlds of make-believe.
True, most Portland theaters are operated by a Tennessee
corporation more concerned with profits than majestic movie
watching. Thankfully, however, vintage theaters like the
Moreland, Roseway, Cinemagic and Hollywood continue to survive,
all offering cheerful service amid quaintly decaying beauty.
Think velvet curtains and vanilla Coke. Cinema 21 remains
a bastion of independent cinema in a world of mindless blockbusters.
Already a pillar of our film community with classes and
screenings, the Northwest Film Center saved the Guild Theatre
from the wrecking ball. The Laurelhurst and McMenamins theaters
combine movies with pizza and beer--'nuff said. And while
the Clinton Street Theatre has been on the ropes more times
than Rocky Balboa, a new facelift is making this Southeast
Portland landmark better than ever. They may be run down,
but these scattered remnants of our movie-going past are
worth keeping alive.
Winter of Our Content
Let's face it: This has been a bad year for movies, especially
summer. The Perfect Storm? Talk about a disaster.
Gone in 60 Seconds? You bet it was. But the upcoming
holiday film season looks promising. America's best working
director, Steven Soderbergh, returns with Traffic,
his most ambitious work to date. The Ice Storm director
Ang Lee heads back home to China for Crouching Tiger,
Hidden Dragon, a thinking-person's martial-arts spectacular
starring the brilliant Chow Yun-Fat. Playwright-filmmaker
David Mamet offers the wicked Hollywood satire State
and Main, which should enhance the quietly growing legend
of Philip Seymour Hoffman. Finding Forrester, the
long-awaited collaboration between Portlanders Gus Van Sant
and KINK newsman-turned-screenwriter Mike Rich, arrives
at Christmas. And best of all, Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece
2001: A Space Odyssey returns to theaters--quite
appropriately in 2001.
Journey Underground
Portland is the experimental film capital of America. Period.
That said, not everything you see at Peripheral Produce
and other collective shows is good--or even watchable. Hey,
that's why they call it experimental. But the work of talented
homegrown filmmakers like Vanessa Renwick, Miranda July
and Matt McCormick boasts an unrivaled spirit of invention.
Like guerrilla soldiers, they run circles around the haggard
Hollywood machine--and they're attracting attention from
around the world.
So before you gobble up the turkey and trimmings this Thursday,
take a moment to count your movie blessings. No doubt corporate
usurpation of cinema is here to stay, as are the heathens
talking in our sacred movie houses. And like any popular
art form, you have to sift through a lot of coal to find
diamonds. But if you look hard enough, you can still find
those transcendent moments of escapism and enchantment that
we all so desperately need.
The curtain has closed on the long-anticipated Sundance
Theaters before the first kernel
of popcorn could even be popped.
Two years ago, Robert Redford's Sundance Film Institute
announced its plans to open the first of what promised to
be a nationwide chain of theaters dedicated to independent
cinema. The Portland project included a multi-screen cineplex,
as well as a restaurant, coffee shop, bar and retail store.
The whole thing sounded very grandiose and spectacular--the
perfect addition to
a city where hot dogs are prepared "gourmet" style, and
lattes and scones have replace coffee and donuts. But the
truth is, had Sundance Theaters come to Portland, it would
have threatened to destroy the independent film scene it
hoped to nurture.
Portland is one of the best places in the country for independent
film lovers. Most larger U.S. cities are lucky to have a
single arthouse theater dedicated to
the films that never make it to
the local multiplex. Portland has several. These theaters
are like
an oasis of hope in a cinematic desert of despair.
Had Sundance Theaters come to town, it would have stolen
most of the fare that now graces the screens at Portland's
cherished independent film houses. One or more of the independent
theaters that make this city unique would have fallen victim
to Sundance--maybe all of them. And when the smoke cleared
and Sundance realized it couldn't compete with Regal or
afford the high cost of renting space at Pioneer Place II,
it would have folded, leaving Portland with fewer opportunities
to see quality film than when Sundance came to town.
Don't mourn the loss of Sundance; instead, support the
local theaters that already offer diversion from the cinematic
crap that plagues us all.
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