Half a bottle of bourbon, the sounds of radiohead and aggressive rain on the windows. Is there something else for Reverse Town?
It was our weekend as writers, as imaginary legends. Dan let his beard grow out for the occasion. I prepared a stir fry and we talked about plans to make a movie come spring, but also about the capitalist beast (church of the free market, lethal injection has been privatized in Arizona) bearing down on all that's innocent and good in this country, about the meaning of our creative endeavors, of whiskey and of women.
The autumn turned damn cold that weekend but for all the rain and bluster, the mornings were pure and white and we walked to a coffee shop called the wandering goat and took strolls along the river sipping coffee black and smoking. I complained about the pervasiveness of men who hype without substance to back it up- hype artists, perpetual marketers- how in fact, hype and substance are diametrical opposites in the world of creation, as I see it. He agreed.
Though sometimes, a little bit of self encouragement is good to get the ball moving again. In the end, we'd agreed on alot and were ready to stop talking and get to work.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
on working with some old timers...
Walt Curtis is a writer. The peckerneck poet of Portland. He wrote Mala Noche in the late seventies which Gus turned into a feature film, his breakout film. I met Walt for the first time yesterday. He insisted we'd met before-
"Oh yes Geronimo, yes yes, we met before, where was that we met, down at the convention? Oh no, satyricon, oh no, it was your brother that I met yes, must've been your brother. No matter. So Geronimo you've had a calm life? No addictions? Never been in jail? Oh, okay so you've been in jail well I can remember, yes, you're 23, 24? Yes I can remember. Cigarettes and beer at the bar yes I can remember. They don't like me guessin their ages but I tell people anyways, even if I can tell they don't like it. Whoa! This is a funky hotel. I couldn't live here, no, if they kept me here I'd go vomitting across the carpet, ha, oh no, I'm kidding I'm kidding..."
He is sixty eight years old but his soul is younger than mine. If it weren't for his crazy halo of white hair fraying outwards like solar flares from his liver spotted planet of a head he'd be just like the eccentric cats I meet around Portland, young and intelligent and completely insane but in touch with something the average schmoe isn't. I lead him to the hotel room where we're shooting this thing. The ones who lived through the seventies in Portland all cry out (how long has is been!) and hug eachother as I'm entering. John Cambell. Brian Lindstrum. These guys are sort of it as far as the film scene in Portland goes. There are niches sure, but Gus blazed a trail and these guys were his backup; they've built careers off connectivity and mutual support and cross promotion. They talk about Mala Noche and Satyircon and "the lawn," and it's clear that the Portland they're talking about doesn't exist anymore, the election of Reagan was the end of an epoch, we triple exers missed out, no more flipping a downtown hotel room for two bucks a night, no more parties on the lawn, NorthWest has transformed into something else completely.
Walt begins to laugh at his own jokes but quickly stops himself, looking around the room apolegetically. He is quite drunk. His interview goes strangly. Brian keeps looking down to the monitor because Walk keeps dipping his head, eyes closed as he speaks, sometimes building into a crescendo of words and emphatically exploding forward wagging his wrinkled fingers at the camera, making himself an altogether terrible interviewee. I heard someone saying that he was too strongly influenced by Buckowski in his style. And someone else said he hasn't changed a lick in forty years. That he's an alcoholic. That he's the most vicious queer in four states. That he's in the throws of dementia. I admire him. I pity him. But I know it makes no difference. The guy's a fucking poet.
"Oh yes Geronimo, yes yes, we met before, where was that we met, down at the convention? Oh no, satyricon, oh no, it was your brother that I met yes, must've been your brother. No matter. So Geronimo you've had a calm life? No addictions? Never been in jail? Oh, okay so you've been in jail well I can remember, yes, you're 23, 24? Yes I can remember. Cigarettes and beer at the bar yes I can remember. They don't like me guessin their ages but I tell people anyways, even if I can tell they don't like it. Whoa! This is a funky hotel. I couldn't live here, no, if they kept me here I'd go vomitting across the carpet, ha, oh no, I'm kidding I'm kidding..."
He is sixty eight years old but his soul is younger than mine. If it weren't for his crazy halo of white hair fraying outwards like solar flares from his liver spotted planet of a head he'd be just like the eccentric cats I meet around Portland, young and intelligent and completely insane but in touch with something the average schmoe isn't. I lead him to the hotel room where we're shooting this thing. The ones who lived through the seventies in Portland all cry out (how long has is been!) and hug eachother as I'm entering. John Cambell. Brian Lindstrum. These guys are sort of it as far as the film scene in Portland goes. There are niches sure, but Gus blazed a trail and these guys were his backup; they've built careers off connectivity and mutual support and cross promotion. They talk about Mala Noche and Satyircon and "the lawn," and it's clear that the Portland they're talking about doesn't exist anymore, the election of Reagan was the end of an epoch, we triple exers missed out, no more flipping a downtown hotel room for two bucks a night, no more parties on the lawn, NorthWest has transformed into something else completely.
Walt begins to laugh at his own jokes but quickly stops himself, looking around the room apolegetically. He is quite drunk. His interview goes strangly. Brian keeps looking down to the monitor because Walk keeps dipping his head, eyes closed as he speaks, sometimes building into a crescendo of words and emphatically exploding forward wagging his wrinkled fingers at the camera, making himself an altogether terrible interviewee. I heard someone saying that he was too strongly influenced by Buckowski in his style. And someone else said he hasn't changed a lick in forty years. That he's an alcoholic. That he's the most vicious queer in four states. That he's in the throws of dementia. I admire him. I pity him. But I know it makes no difference. The guy's a fucking poet.
Monday, August 24, 2009
1st of many.
tuesday, the 18th of august, bagdad had their nw filmmakers screening and we were there.
"august" was shown, our first film made as a solidified collective, and it was well received. the program was 2 hours of locally made films--and here in portland it's all about the locally grown. the films included shorts on par with "august", a few up to 20min or so, an animated film, and at least one film shot on 16mm. all different and creatively inspirering.
"august" well was received--a wave of silence reached over the crowd as dan "sexy chest" klockenkemper filled the bagdad's large screen--and we expect to hear back any moment about our first place prize (or at least honrable mention?).
"august" was shown, our first film made as a solidified collective, and it was well received. the program was 2 hours of locally made films--and here in portland it's all about the locally grown. the films included shorts on par with "august", a few up to 20min or so, an animated film, and at least one film shot on 16mm. all different and creatively inspirering.
"august" well was received--a wave of silence reached over the crowd as dan "sexy chest" klockenkemper filled the bagdad's large screen--and we expect to hear back any moment about our first place prize (or at least honrable mention?).
Monday, August 3, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Maiden Voyage
Check...check...
Testing.......
Reverse Town is a film collective based in Portland, Oregon.
There are six of us:
Mario
Ian
Dan
Brian
Liz
Mike
We produce films of varying lengths, rotating positions on each project.
We will soon post our first short film, AUGUST, which played at the most recent NWFC Open Screening and will soon play at the Bagdad Theater's NW Filmmaker's Night on August 18th, 2009. Please come out and support us by voting for our film.
McMenamins Bagdad Theater, 3702 SE Hawthorne Blvd, Portland OR
An update.
We have wrapped production on our next short film, working title NEUTRAL ZONE. Hoping for a quick time in post for entry into the NW Film and Video Festival. This one should knock your socks off.
Testing.......
Reverse Town is a film collective based in Portland, Oregon.
There are six of us:
Mario
Ian
Dan
Brian
Liz
Mike
We produce films of varying lengths, rotating positions on each project.
We will soon post our first short film, AUGUST, which played at the most recent NWFC Open Screening and will soon play at the Bagdad Theater's NW Filmmaker's Night on August 18th, 2009. Please come out and support us by voting for our film.
McMenamins Bagdad Theater, 3702 SE Hawthorne Blvd, Portland OR
An update.
We have wrapped production on our next short film, working title NEUTRAL ZONE. Hoping for a quick time in post for entry into the NW Film and Video Festival. This one should knock your socks off.
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