YOU HAD ME AT FILM NOTES

When I was a student at the University of Texas, I took a film history class as an elective the spring semester of my freshman year. We were required to attend one film screening a week for the class. These screenings were held at the Jester Dormitory auditorium. Remember, this was in 1975, so there were no such things as VHS tapes, DVDs, Blu-Rays or streaming services. In order to see the assigned films, we all had to be in that auditorium on any given night to watch the films.The films were 16mm rental copies and the quality of the prints varied. 

The required films were only part of a semester long program of screenings of classic films (American and foreign) that was sponsored by an organization called CinemaTexas. They offered a season pass that allowed the holder to see as many films as they desired for one low, low price. I purchased one of the passes and used it regularly to gain admittance to not only the films that were assigned for my class, but as many other films as my schedule and study demands allowed. It was my first real exposure to any kind of film culture whatsoever. 

One of the most important aspects of the CinemaTexas film series was the stellar film notes that were available for free at each screening. These notes, written by undergraduate and graduate film students, were well written, thoughtful essays about the films I was seeing. I treasured those film notes, keeping many of them for many, many years. To write a series of film notes quickly became one of my secret dreams, a fantastic ambition that, at that point in time, I had no idea how to make happen. I wasn't a film major, I didn't know anyone in the film department, I wasn't even a writer of any merit at the time. But I nevertheless filed these mimeographed gems away for safe keeping and nourished the dream which I kept within the film theater of my heart.

In the summer of 1994, I was part of a team of volunteers (horror movie fans one and all), that helped put on the first (and to date, only) Drive-In Double Feature Film Festival, held at the now long gone Dobie Theater in Dobie Mall, adjacent to the UT campus. During one of many planning sessions held at the venerable campus area watering hole, Posse East, my cohorts and I decided that what this film festival needed to set it apart (beside the outstanding line-up of classic '50s and '60s drive-in schlock movies), were film notes. We all agreed that it was a great idea and divied up the fourteen featured films among us. The writers included myself, Kelly Greene, Lisa Franklin, Steve Blackburn and Bruce Wright. We had a blast writing the notes and for me, it was a chance to make my twenty-year old dream about being a film writer come true. Note: I have a much longer and more detailed story about the Drive-In Double Feature Film Festival which I'll try to post here sometime in the near future. 

The next summer, I saw several films as part of the Summer Classic Film Series at Austin's legendary and historic Paramount Theatre. When the season was over, I drafted a letter to programming director Paul Beutel thanking him for such a great lineup of movies. I included some suggestions for the next year's line up and closed my missive with a pitch for providing film notes for future series. Along with my letter, I included a copy of some of the film notes I had written for the Drive-In Double Feature event. 

I heard back from Paul in record time. He told me that having film notes was something he had always wanted to have for the Paramount but he simply didn't have the time to write them. If I was willing to do so for a small fee (along with free movie passes), he was willing to take a chance on me. 

We met in March of 1996 to discuss the selections for the upcoming summer. Paul liked many of my suggestions but film programing in those days depended upon what the studios (and other rental agencies) had available, how good the prints were, how long it had been since a film had previously screened at the Paramount and how well they did), etc. The only sure things that Paul programmed every year was the opener (CASABLANCA) and closer (GONE WITH THE WIND). In between, it was up to us to put together a program that audiences would like and would be profitable.  As soon as Paul started confirming availability of prints and locking in screening dates, he would send me a list of what he had booked. As soon as I received that list, I started writing because this was one writing gig in which I absolutely could not get behind on. 

Writing those film notes was sheer bliss for me. I did a good enough job that first year that Paul allowed me to continue to write the notes for almost twenty years. Oh, he would occasionally write some when one of his favorite films was on the schedule but by and the large, the bulk of those notes were written by me. If you attended a screening at the Paramount's Summer Classic Film series anytime between 1996 and 2016 and an usher handed you some film notes, odds are I wrote them.

I have stacks of physical copies of my notes from various years piled up in the comic book room of the man cave along with many drafts saved on my computer. I don't know if anyone was ever film geek/nerd enough to save my notes as I did those CinemaTexas treasures from years ago (I hope someone did), but I do know that my notes caught the attention of Patrick Caldwell, a writer for the Austin American-Statesman in the summer of 2009. He contacted me and arranged to come out to the house of a lengthy interview. His article was published in August of that year and a fine write up it was indeed. Caldwell called me "one of Austin's most widely read entertainment writers you've never heard of." I'll take that.

In addition to writing film notes for the Summer Classic Film Series, I was privileged to introduce several screenings, meet and visit with legendary director Peter Bogdanovich and introduce and do a Q&A with Adam West on stage in front of a sold out crowd (1,200 people) before a screening of the classic 1966 BATMAN film (which had it's world premiere at the Paramount in August 1966 and I was there). Paul (now retired), became a good friend and even when new programmers stepped in, I continued to contribute notes, albeit on a much more limited basis. 

I no longer write for the Paramount. I did some film notes and introduced the opening night feature (THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS) at the Hippodrome Theater in Waco when it reopened in 2014 but my contact there was fired shortly after the theater opened and my services were no longer needed. 

But the bottom line is this. The Summer Classic Film series is a long and venerable tradition that began long before I got involved with it and it continues to be a first rate film event to this day. But a big part of that tradition, a key part of that wonderful summer ritual, are the film notes that were written by myself, Paul and other programmers. Those sheets of paper didn't exist until I asked for the opportunity to create them and was generously given the green light. Paul took a chance on an unknown film writer and together we created something that has added just that little bit more to what is already a first rate film going experience. 

All of which brings me, at long last, to FLICKER, Theodore Roszak's epic 1991 novel in which film notes play a small, but important part in a narrative that takes a very, very deep dive into film culture in general and horror films in particular. 

FLICKER is the story of Jonathan Gates, a young film fan in Los Angeles in the 1950s where a small, basement theater called The Classic, runs foreign and vintage American films to a small but loyal crowd of cinema devotees. It's there that Jonathan makes the acquaintance of Sharkey, the perpetually stoned projectionist (and co-owner) and Clare, the real driving force behind The Classic. Clare, a want-to-be film writer, provides film notes for the screenings and recruits Gates as her student to learn the craft. Clare later becomes a film writer by the name of Clarissa Swan in New York (a not-so-subtle analog of the legendary Pauline Kael). 

While learning the film ropes from Clare (and enjoying a passionate sexual relationship), Gates discovers the low budget, poverty row horror films of the mysterious and long dead (he was lost at sea in 1941) Max Castle. Gates becomes obsessed with Caste's films and the more he watches them, the more he becomes aware of something going on underneath the surface of the film, subliminal images of brutal violence and unheard of sexual practices. 

Gates, now a film student at UCLA, decides to make Castle and his films, the subject of his graduate studies and he starts out to find and interview anyone and everyone still living who had any knowledge of Castle, along with acquiring more unseen and unknown Castle films, films which contain even more dark secrets.  

Gates is soon down a celluloid rabbit hole, a journey across Southern California, New York City and Europe which takes him deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. He encounters a variety of offbeat characters, some real, some fictitious, along his quest. For instance, Gates meets Orson Welles in one chapter in which Welles relates his relationship with Castle. The fictional characters include Zip Lipsky, Castle's cinematographer who, among other things, is a dwarf, a former serial jungle queen, years beyond her prime, who was a primal erotic fantasy for young Jonathan, avant garde underground film makers totally devoid of talent, a yammering French cineaste who goes on and on about semiotics, a recluse Dutch beauty who teaches Jonathan about one of Castle's forbidden sexual practices and others. 

At the heart of the quest is a mysterious, ancient cult that believes the world is controlled by not one true God but two gods, one of light and one of dark. This cult has been grooming film makers for years using secret editing techniques to embed their work with cultic images and messages. It's all end-of-the-world stuff, Apocalypse-coming-soon (2014 according to prophecy) brought to you by films and soon, television. 

Gates gets sucked deeper and deeper into this labyrinthine maze of movies and madmen before a last reel (if you will), that brings him face to face with...…

FLICKER is a novelistic version of CITIZEN KANE, with Gates playing the reporter who gathers bits and pieces about his elusive subject as he goes along. Some have described it as SUNSET BLVD. meets THE DA VINCI CODE. It's over 600 pages in length but it's a, believe it or not, fairly quick read. Granted, there are parts here and there could stand to be trimmed but overall, this book grabbed me from the very beginning and pulled me in. My thanks to my buddy at work, J. Aaron, for loaning me his copy and turning me on to this book, one which I had never heard of before.

Make no mistake, FLICKER isn't for everyone. But it's the kind of book film buffs will love. It's a valentine to a lost era of film culture (the last date given in the book is 1976) and acknowledgement of the incredible power of motion pictures to take up permanent residence in the deepest parts of our beings. The more you know about movies, the more you'll like this book. And those readers who are into classic horror films will eat it up.

Highly recommended.