What's Old Is New Again

The other night, as part of our continued fall reboot, we watched the new Shout! Factory Blu-Ray of the 1971 Hammer horror classic, Blood From The Mummy's Tomb. Our third issue included a long review of the film, which was then just released by Anchor Bay (now long out of print). ESR #3 came out of the printer the night before our first public appearance, at Canzine 2001. It so happens the 2019 edition of Canzine occurs this weekend. We’re not tabling there, but the event fittingly coincides with the Blu-Ray release, and our long delayed re-launch.

This is just another curious case of déjà vu felt in the past week, as we prepare our return to print. This narrative should just be a sequel, picking up where we left off. Instead, life right now feels like a 12-inch remix, where patterns are being repeated. 

Last Friday, I attended Killer B Cinema’s screening of 3 Dev Adam, their first such event at a new venue, See-Scape on Keele St. In 2018, they held monthly shows at The Imperial Pub, where our Toronto Film Noir Syndicate also had screenings in the first four months of the year. During that time, it was a great micro-cinema collective happening, with two different film groups sharing the same venue, and promoting each other. As usual, Lizzie and Zoltan put on a tight, solid program Friday night, and I wish them every future success at their new location.

Shelf Life

On Saturday night, the Royal Cinema presented a “25th anniversary” screening of Paul Bartel’s final film as a director, 1993’s ultra rare Shelf Life. I didn’t know until arriving that they projected Bartel’s own 35mm print, which had recently been unearthed at AMPAS! In 1995, the late actor-director showed this film at Toronto’s (now long gone) Euclid Cinema. He toured the film in several cites with the reels under his arm, in true indie fashion, but the movie sadly did not find a distributor, and has remained in obscurity. 

Although it never had an official home video release, I rented a squiggly VHS bootleg of Shelf Life in the early 2000s. Whatever my thoughts of it at the time, they were no doubt influenced by the conditions under which it was viewed. Let us just say that seeing Shelf Life in its proper milieu greatly enhanced my appreciation. The film has been touring, with its three cast members, in the same word of mouth fashion their director tried a quarter century ago. I hope this time it finds its deserved audience. 

A while back, I held a Facebook poll: should I continue with the issue numbering that we left in 2012, or start the next one with “Volume 2, Number 1”? Both of my Facebook friends unanimously voted for the latter, and I agreed with that decision. When Jean-Luc Godard returned to commercial filmmaking in 1980 after a long layoff, he had referred to his then-new project, Sauve Qui Peut, as his “second” first film. I get what he meant. After our own Sabbatical, this return to the printed page feels like I’m starting The Eclectic Screening Room from scratch all over again.

Once we re-launch the website in the next few weeks, we move right into the first new print issue in over seven years. Preparing this “new” first issue mirrors that feeling in the fall of 2001, when everything had to get done myself. 

In the past three years, I’ve twice attempted to resurrect ESR. I had called for submissions, and some work did trickle in. Other pieces were to come, and didn’t materialize, largely because I didn’t proactively follow up, and that writers probably surmised I wasn’t serious enough about it. Sure, life once again got in the way of revisiting ESR, but deep down I sensed I still wasn’t ready. Therefore, in this new attempt at re-launching the publication, I don’t want to disappoint more people. I need to earn their respect all over again. 

Oh. And why was ESR already into its third issue when it made that first public appearance eighteen years ago? I wanted to produce a body of work to show people (and myself) that I was serious about it. 

Two things of note did get printed during those seven years away from ESR. The first issue of Eurofantasmo was done as a birthday screening giveaway. (Its second instalment, “the all Carroll Baker issue”, awaits completion.) The other, more personal publication however, was made for an audience of one: me!

On the way to retaining my writing headspace, I felt it therapeutic to re-read some of my own words. One night, I printed a forty-page, digest-sized compendium of all the sixty-odd film reviews I had submitted to the IMDB early in the last decade.

These pieces were usually posted during my lunch breaks, while chowing down on French fries with mustard from Mr. Tasty, written in order to “stay in shape” between publishing. Whether or not my opinions of the films would change, I’d now certainly use different words to voice them. These reviews hardly rival André Bazin, but they possess the clarity, and perhaps boldness, that I’ve lacked in recent years.

Because the reviews specialize in (but are not limited to) Grade Z genre movies or underground-experimental cinema, they appear focused thanks to my personal identification with both of these forms. Whether they are perceived as (respectively) lowest common denominator trash or highbrow art, these kinds of films share a common theme: they are works made from hunger. 

In those days, when it was a miracle to still have five bucks in my pocket by the next paycheque, I felt a kinship in the hand-to-mouth existence of these filmmaking renegades. The insistence to make these unconventional movies, despite little means, mirrored the desire to get my Xeroxed words into the world. It was essential to life!

Sinthia: The Devil's Doll

This urgency came to mind last night as I finally got around to watch Ray Dennis Steckler’s 1970 Freudian nightmare, Sinthia: The Devil’s Doll. Somehow I missed this during the old days, when early issues of ESR featured a semi-regular Steckler gush-a-thon. What would I have thought of this, uh, “thing” back when I wrote about that murky expression found in underground movies viewed in musty basements, or in 60s sexploitation films on high-contrast VHS tapes from Something Weird? 

I could just picture myself hunched over that old Mac IIsi, wolfing down something from Mr. Tasty, buzzed on the second pot of coffee, comparing its dreamlike narrative to the psychodramas of the New American Cinema, where different timeframes fold into one another, and separate characters represent multiple things. I also might have referenced Kenneth Anger in its makeup, art direction and lighting colour palette. Last night’s reaction however was similar to how your stomach feels like a boulder after taking meds without food. 

In the IIsi days, I probably would’ve said that its excruciating tedium is necessary to attain its unique language, and how it meretriciously plods towards a new cinematic form, while under the pretense of a sexploitation film. One day later, while replaying the movie in my mind (much easier to have seen than to sit through), I do concede that there is something going on beneath its lumbering execution. I believe what I would’ve written after all.

What’s old is new again.

Long Goodbyes

Would a Greg Woods blog post exist without some sort of apology?

It would figure that my first post of 2019 appears two-thirds of the way into the "new year". Recently, a friend emailed inquiring what was going on with this blog, so it's re-assuring that someone still supports ESR, even years after its last public appearance has faded from memory. Preferably, personal matters are discussed online only in the context of the work itself, and that warrants inclusion here, if to contextualize the long absence from this space, and for that matter, where I see it heading.

Last fall, my dad passed away after battling ALS for more than a year. He tried to live independently for as long as he could until April, 2018, when it became apparent that he would have to go to a nursing home. I had spent that spring and summer cleaning out his place, auctioning off his stuff, taking care of his bills and things like that. Alas, his health decreased in the ensuing months, and he passed away peacefully on November 20. Even though we knew the prognosis, I figured (perhaps naively) that he still had more time left.  I felt there was still time left for us to talk.

While he passed before this disease robbed him of any more functionality, I regret not being able to ask him more questions; I'm sorry I couldn't tell him more. I wish that my goodbye to him on November 19 wasn't so feeble. I don't even know if he was conscious enough to have heard me. And even then, I didn't consider that he would pass the next day. He had rebounded before, and to my mind, he could do so again. Alas, time waits for no one.

This spring we held an informal, secular gathering with family, while we interred his ashes with his siblings, and read a couple of elegies. He didn't even want this much to honour him by, but I felt there should be an indication that he was here, and that he did make a difference. Even so, because I kind of went against his wishes, even for benevolent reasons, I still question if I made the right choice. The passing of a loved one also forces us to look inward. We reminisce about our times spent together, but we also ponder our own purpose on this earth. What kind of legacy am I leaving behind? What marker will say that I was here? Ultimately, under such grim circumstances, we're reminded of how much a fragile gift that life is, and that we must take advantage of it as much as we can.

During the past few months, we have made attempts to get "back to normal" and enjoy life again. It's been hard to get into the writing headspace again, but I'm trying. I still have great plans to rejuvenate ESR (plus launch one or two other projects I'm sure you'll dig) in the near future. So, if you've supported us in any way through the years, or if you just happened to discover these words for the first time, we thank you, and we hope that the best is yet to come.

Part of our "getting back to normal" is also in reviving this regular column. Screen Captures will expound on cinematic themes or topics of the moment, plus continue to serve as a living document of the local film scene that exists on the fringes. This week's column continues its autumnal theme of saying goodbye, and acceptance that all good things must pass.

2 For 1 Movies

It comes with a heavy heart to announce that after over 30 years in business, 2 For 1 Movies, one of Toronto's last surviving video stores, is closing its doors. Located next door to the Humber Cinema at Bloor and Jane, this store served as "my local" for years in terms of renting videos. In its heyday, it was open from noon to midnight, seven days a week. As per its namesake, you could get two non-new releases for the price of one: two movies, two days, four bucks.

During the video store boom, there also existed other independent stores across the street and a few blocks above, plus a Blockbuster just two doors west of them. Amidst great adversity, 2 For 1 outlasted all of them (which shut down over a decade ago), and even some of the city's better known independent shops that have called it a day.

In the past few years, we've seen the closures of Suspect Video and Culture, Queen Video, The Film Buff, Movie Art Decor, and several others. It was re-assuring to see that these guys were still around, and that half of their inventory still consisted of VHS! The bleached poster of Doc Hollywood on its door signified its Precinct 13-like oasis in the midst of changing times. In recent years however, their business hours sharply decreased, since it was run by two men of retirement age. I won't pretend to fall on my sword in false allegiance, as my visits at 2 For 1 have been fewer and farther between over the years, and not just because of shortened operating hours.

The news of their closure comes with little surprise, as they were the only business still open on that north side strip of Bloor St. The second-to-last remaining business, Humber Cinema, abruptly closed this summer. After many years of back and forth, it appears that this chunk of land is now being appropriated for, you guessed it, more overpriced condos.

During the summer, before the news of 2 For 1's closure became known, I had visited the store for the first time in ages. It was saddening to see the disrepair of the store's interior. Paint was peeling, and the musty wall-to-wall carpet was dotted with the foam that absorbs water. Small wonder that these gentlemen sit outside during the four and a half hours that the shop is open for business.

As their final days loom, they've been selling off their entire inventory. This weekend I joined the handful of likeminded collectors who picked through the dust-covered VHS cases, especially looking for rarities that never made the transition to DVD or BluRay. Some of the armful of treasures I brought home were nostalgic choices, "for old times' sake": titles I had rented, which were reviewed in ESR. I had to pick up the Trylon VHS release of The Glory Stompers, which was featured in ESR #2, our first Drive-In Issue. Other mementos included two Luis Bunuel films, Nazarin and Illusion Travels By Streetcar, included in my two-part article on the director's "for hire" films in Mexico.

The Cat's Pajamas Signs Off

What is it about our collective psyche that gives importance to anniversaries ending in fives or zeroes? Are those ending in threes or sevens no less worthy? During this back to school season, my interior landscape is forced to remember a "back to school" anniversary ending in a zero: when I first moved to the city to study film at York University.

School started on Monday the 11th, one week after Labour Day. On Tuesday the 5th, I had journeyed up to move in to residence on campus. The next two days were spent exploring the campus and the immediate neighbourhood. On Thursday, first-year film students had a "meet and greet" at the Faculty of Fine Arts building. My mother came up for the day, chauffeured by my cousin and his wife. For whatever reason, I drove back to Birdtown on the Friday, and returned to Toronto on the Sunday just before one day before classes officially began.

Beginning a new life chapter can also be bittersweet. In the previous year, I had returned to high school to upgrade my average and improve my portfolio for admission to film school. Within those ten months, I had gone from zero to hero: making a feature-length video, appearing in two plays (one of which went as far as the Sears Drama Festival's semi-finals), and obtaining a new circle of friends. Alas, in the final four weeks before university, I was going back to zero again, as that world I had created was dissipating, in light of this new phase. I had achieved what I set out to do, but hadn't expected to pay such a price of finality. It took a long time time to accept that and move on.

In that final month before university, there was no big send-off for this boy. That only happens in the movies, right? Alas, this epic ended with a lot of tiny goodbyes. One of them was film related in a way.

One of the most important film educations during high school age was The Cat's Pajamas, an all-night movie show which ran for several years on WGRZ (Buffalo's NBC affiliate). I have, and will continue to memorialize this program numerous times in this blog, such significance does it have to my personal makeup. It was a veritable film school in its (forgive me) eclectic programming of horror, kung fu, classic comedies, and TV movies, to list only a few highlights. Seeing these films in warmed, less than pristine prints, coupled with static, just added to the dreamlike experience that painted such comforting images onto your oxygen-deprived mind that wavered in and out of consciousness. This program was also a surrogate friend to many in those late-night hours. It is sadly fitting that here was another friend saying goodbye, just before I started university.

On that Friday night cited above, where I came back to Birdtown for the weekend prior to classes starting, I had arrived at my mother's house well after she had retired for the evening. The house was quiet and in darkness. I elected to make a bed out of the couch, so as not to make a disturbance up the creaking stairs. Before nodding off, I put the TV on for a bit, lying inches from the screen, with the volume down low, just like I used to do in those renegade days of sneaking on the late late show when I should’ve been asleep. A very weird movie was on. Under these viewing circumstances, it seemed so otherworldly, so larger than life. It was 1966's Chamber Of Horrors, broadcast on The Cat's Pajamas.

Admittedly, I hadn't watched this program much in the past year, since I was so busy. Only now, upon looking at old TV listings of the day, is it apparent that my inattentiveness was because by then WGRZ's late night schedule mostly consisted of infomercials! The only remnant of traditional Cat's PJs programming was a movie on Friday nights. That night felt like a brief visit with an old friend again. I would later learn that Chamber Of Horrors was the penultimate airing. On Friday Sept. 15, The Cat's Pajamas quietly signed off for good after showing the feature-length TV pilot for Search.

Although I've since viewed Chamber Of Horrors in its entirety and with greater clarity, this night's gaze, viewed with an overtired brain and the volume way down, was a surreal experience. It felt like a satellite transmission from an extraterrestrial being. You don't understand the language, but you know what the cadences mean. It was to say: "Thank for you all your love and support over the years. It is time for us for leave. You are moving on and so must we. Take and use what you've learned from us. Think of us now and again."

Chamber Of Horrors. Add some fuzzy, static filter from your iPhone to achieve woozy "late night movie" effect.

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And on this note, we'll leave with some notifications of a couple upcoming events. Apparently there is some big film festival going on right now. But for us mortals who can't afford the $109.75 to breathe the same air as Brad Pitt, here are a couple of interesting options.

Paul Bartel's Shelf Life
Paul Bartel's final feature as a director, 1993's Shelf Life, has never had a proper release. He presented the film in person here in 1995 during an engagement at the long-gone Euclid cinema. Since then, the film has been rarely seen. This Saturday, the Royal is presenting a screening with its cast in attendance! This black comedy, of a 60s nuclear family that spends years in a bomb shelter, is not to be missed. Sat. Sept. 7 at 8 PM.  For further information, and tickets, visit here.

It's Alive! Classic Horror and Sci-Fi Art from the Kirk Hammett Collection
Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett's collection of sci-fi and horror memorabilia is on display at the ROM until January 5, 2020. But why wait? That $41.75 TIFF gala will be an eight dollar DVD before Christmas. Check out this amazing exhibit today! For further information, visit here!

Thanks for reading. More cinematic goodness next week!

Screen Captures #3: Ed Wood Night At The Movies

October the 10th would have been the 94th birthday of cult cinema’s patron saint, the redoubtable Edward D. Wood, Jr. His Grade Z genre films such as Plan 9 From Outer Space and Bride Of The Monster are remembered for their inane dialogue and cardboard production values, peopled with  Hollywood stars well past their glory days, such as Bela Lugosi whose twilight years were riddled with drug addiction, or Wood's own stock company of outsiders and hapless hopefuls. Wood's offscreen penchant for wearing women's clothing (angora was a favourite) was also the topic of his feature debut Glen Or Glenda, in which he also appeared onscreen in the title role(s).

The one, the only, Edward D. Wood, Jr.

In 1978, Wood passed away at the age of 54, penniless and forgotten, just a few years before his work was rediscovered by cult movie fans, under the banner of "so bad it's good". The cult of Wood grew formidably over the years, prompting the publication of Rudolph Grey's 1992 biography Nightmare Of Ecstasy, and the release of Tim Burton's giddy 1994 Hollywood biopic Ed Wood, featuring Johnny Depp as Wood, and Martin Landau in his Oscar-winning performance as Lugosi. The movie -which chronicles his heyday of his beloved classics, and ends before his decline into alcoholism and pornography- deserved to be a mega-hit, but it sadly under-performed at the box office in first-run. The film however had a strong shelf life on VHS and cable, where it no doubt found the majority of its fans. The renewed interest in Edward D. Wood also prompted the release of numerous documentaries about the man and his movies, and his filmography was reissued to unfamiliar viewers. 

In those days, there still existed a reasonably sized window between a film’s theatrical run and its eventual home video release, so that it could still enjoy a healthy lifespan in repertory cinemas before going to tape. So once Ed Wood hit second-run, Toronto’s repertory circuit had a field day with it.

The film was often paired in a double bill, shared with one of Wood's key films (Plan 9 From Outer Space, Glen or Glenda). However, the apex of "Ed Wood Mania" was on a snowy Friday (the 13th, no less) in January of 1995, when The Bloor Cinema showed a "one night only" quadruple bill of Ed Wood movies that were not as regularly viewed: Jail Bait, Bride Of The Monster, Night Of The Ghouls, and The Sinister Urge. 

In honour of Mr. Wood's birthday, and his often misunderstood legacy, today's column will share the experience of that night, which would be one of the greatest screenings I've attended in my entire life. 

"Rocky Horror" notwithstanding, never a more eclectic crowd have I seen at the cinema than on this crazy, crazy night: pimply geeks with black rimmed glasses, hippie stoners, people in black trenchcoats (and matching lipstick)… even a dapperly dressed older gentleman I chatted with in the ticket line ("He SHOULD get a star in Hollywood! He had gumption!"). Some may ask, "How was this different from the clientele any other night at the Bloor back then?" Well all right, they were just in greater abundance. And how! 

When Jail Bait began at 7 PM, there was still a lineup around the corner of patrons slowly being admitted to the theatre. If the two-floor cinema wasn't filled to capacity that night, it was damn close. Because the staff was still shambling to get bums into chairs, I too missed the opening of Ed Wood's eccentric film noir, but once I found a seat up close and centre, and heard the ubiquitous piano and flamenco guitar score coming from the speakers, I was in cult movie heaven.

In between flicks, you had just enough time to get some refreshments or go outside for a smoke (...of something). During one such break, I wandered to the lobby for my fifteenth coffee, and picked up a handbill from (the much-missed) Admit One Video, which advertised Ed Wood VHS tapes for sale. I can't remember now if they co-presented the night's festivities, but it would stand to reason, as it was doubtful that all (or any) of these movies were projected on film. One movie opened with the Admit One logo displaying before the credits.

Criswell in Night Of The Ghouls

Even if we were seeing video, it hardly mattered: it was a blast just to see this stuff on a big screen, and with a large audience (likely a bigger and more appreciative crowd than any of these films received in their initial releases). For instance, the second feature, Bride Of The Monster (the only one of this quartet I had seen previously) was definitely shown on video based on its soft appearance, but I don't think anybody cared. The place shook with applause when Bela Lugosi's name appeared in the credits- likewise for Tor Johnson's. The thunder continued in the next offering, Night Of The Ghouls, the long-lost sequel to Plan 9 and Bride Of The Monster! The projectionist briefly lost the sound during the film's opening with the famed Criswell, whose psychic abilities were equal parts clairvoyance and caca, but it mattered not, since the crowd was so boisterous, we wouldn't have heard his dialogue anyway. Similarly, the audience would shout their approval to the screen every time the floating trumpet appeared. 

Although perhaps to some, this cinematic experience was being enhanced as evidenced by the, uh, "herbal fragrances" in the air, I didn't partake. I've never, ever, been able to view a film under the influence of alcohol or grass... I'd fall asleep first. My movie-watching drug of choice has always been copious amounts of caffeine. (Truthfully, with all the energy in the hall that night, we all could have grasped a natural high.) Still, after working all day in Thornhill and hightailing it down to the cinema right after, all the better to be wired on the bean, so I was still wide-eyed and giddy as the evening concluded with my favourite picture of the four, The Sinister Urge. Ed Wood's daft "cautionary fable" about the dangers of pornography is epitomized by the writer-director's stock company of hard-working cops in pursuit of some knife-wielding loony driven to attacking women in the park, all due to (gasp!) looking at women's bloomers in smut publications. 

With the exception of Bride Of The Monster, the night's films were the least-seen of his "legit" oeuvre: best-known largely to veteran Ed Wood cultists. One could say that Wood's off-screen persona eclipsed many of the films shown that night. But life and art intersected in one pivotal moment of The Sinister Urge when the cops decide to have an undercover officer dress up as a woman to bait the killer. The audience went NUTS, anticipating the director's Hitchockian onscreen cameo.

Thanks to the Medveds and their Golden Turkey Awards (which, granted, was a catalyst in resurrecting his movies), Edward D. Wood garnered the reputation as the worst director of all time, for all of these films that fall under the "so-bad-they're-good" realm. Personally, I've never been comfortable with the "so-bad-it's-good" maxim, as much as I understand its resonance to people. How can movies so entertaining, imaginative and sneakily subversive be "bad"? To be sure, some viewers came out to have some laughs at the technical ineptitude, way-out dialogue, and corny special effects. But I think too, a lot of the laughter came from the element of surprise and, yes, amazement.

Therein, I think, lies the enduring appeal of Ed Wood's cinema (and no, that phrase is not contradictory). Whatever his deficiencies, lacking the attributes of any conventional Hollywood director, his movies are always imaginative, innocently entertaining, and full of enthusiasm. He worked on the fringes of a movie industry that otherwise ignored him, and yet created a mini-Hollywood of his own. He made micro-budgeted valentines to the genres he loved, and (years before the Warhol Superstar ideology) made cult legends out of his eccentric stock company of actors. Despite how his movies appear on the surface, they remain products of a classic Hollywood outsider who succeeded in making a personal, identifiable body of work despite the odds, that people still talk about 60 years on. 

Having said that though, if they decided to replicate this screening for today's audience, it just wouldn't be the same. Regardless of the things we loved to joke about Ed Wood's films, we also appreciated those movies. Today, I'd fear that the program would be sabotaged by the accompaniment of all the "ironic", condescending remarks emanated from these disruptive hipsters who pollute every goddamn cult movie revival screening nowadays with their ridiculous notion that they somehow have to exert their superiority to whatever spools onscreen. At least in my earshot, there was none of that bullshit: everybody was just having a great time. 

I attended this screening alone, because none of my college mates wanted to go. But after spending five hours in these walls with several hundred strangers who were digging these movies as I was, I quickly realized something. This was the scene I was looking for. I wanted in. Funnily enough, I now know several people who were at this screening, although we were years away from having known each other. The mind is tickled by the possibilities that I could've brushed past future friends while grabbing the next coffee between films. Still, those people are in my life now, one way or another, because of the film zine I published for twelve years.

I think Andre Breton, the founder of Surrealism, would've found much worth in the films of Ed Wood. A quote by Breton that I value greatly certainly figures into this experience: "One publishes to find comrades." That phrase I think also equally works for Wood's films. His work continues to speak to all of us outcasts who reject the conventional societal norms and attempt to build our own little worlds.

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Free Screening! Tomorrow Night!

Stephen Broomer is back in Toronto to show his amazing experimental film, Potamkin, inspired the writings of 1930s film critic Harry Alan Potamkin. This is the thirteenth screening of the Ad Hoc collective, presented at Innis College, 2 Sussex Ave., Room 222, 7PM! Did I mention, it's free? Don't miss it!

Saturday! Independent Video Store Day!

In honour of the 8th Annual Independent Video Store Day, where video stores across the continent are celebrating the good old days when you used to discover movies at an actual location and interact with people, Eyesore Cinema is having a day-long event on Saturday October 20, with tons of movies for sale, plus grab bags and lots of fun. 1176 Bloor St. W. Facebook event link here for more information.

More next week! Till then...

Screen Captures #1

Hello webiverse, how have you been doing? Planet ESR has been inactive for some time, so much that both of my readers have stopped asking when the heck the next issue is coming out.  As of this coming weekend, it will be six years since we debuted a new issue, at 2012’s edition of Word On The Street. 

What the hell have I been doing in all this time? Not much, other than work things. (Sacre bleu! You don’t do ESR for a living? Mais, non!) Well, I did get a short piece on Curtis Harrington published (Thanks, Jason!). Also, I was supposed to contribute an article to a book-length study, and before I knew it, they published without me- no communication, nothing (I’m STILL pissed off about that one). Additionally, there were a couple of attempts to revive ESR as a publication, each followed by the resignation that I just wasn’t ready yet.

Other than that, creatively speaking, the only real feat of these intervening years was in, to put it politely, archiving. Much of my spare time was devoted to / frittered away on downloading old TV listings from newspaper archives. This began as research for another project still on the back burner, and manifested into a hobby where I’d make spreadsheets of old movie schedules, etc. Why? Am I that OCD? Well perhaps. Truthfully, I think everyone in this industry has to be obsessive. Otherwise why would we willingly subject ourselves to cruel and unusual punishment? (Shoot during a hurricane with a free cannelloni dinner as reward, and you’ll see what I mean.) 

In fact, obsession is part of human nature. What we choose to obsess over, however, can sometimes be declared as abnormal. I’ll leave the analysis to Niles Crane, but perhaps, deep down this hobby was an excuse to distract me from obsessing over what next to do with my life. As always, I tend to bury myself in the past, to look backward, because there’s nothing to look forward to.

But, it is time to change that school of thought.

This year, I had a milestone birthday that ended with a zero. My day job also had a milestone anniversary that ended with a zero. These events have compounded my constant self-deprecation. What have I accomplished in all this time? What have I gained with sacrificing x number of years of my life for someone’s dream? Most people my age have houses, kids, and are even thinking of retirement. I’m still in the same mindset I was twenty years ago, still trying to figure stuff out, still trying to grasp onto something out of reach. Another major event this year has forced some self-realization. 

I hesitate to extrapolate on personal things, but this is relevant to why you’re reading these words at all. Earlier this year, my dad had to go to a nursing home. I had to attend to his personal affairs and clean out his place. There are few things as invasive as tending to the personal effects of someone still living. It’s dirty. But thankfully, this cleanup went a lot smoother than it could have, because my father always kept his affairs very orderly. This forced me to re-examine myself. What kind of milestone am I leaving behind? How can I improve my life right now? How can I build a better future?

This hot summer has been spent with much reflection. To be as general as possible, I’ve learned that I’ve become a prisoner by design. I’ve allowed myself to be ruled by factors that ask for more, and do not reward back. I blame no one but myself for this quandary, but the time has come to take my life back. As the weather hopefully cools, it’s time to get back to loving life again, and to return to the things that I’ve forgotten about, which define me as a human being. 

As part of this self-examination, I’ve started writing journals again for the first time in years. And as writing continues to be part of my daily mantra, I will feel confident enough to return to publishing: not just to ESR, but a couple more projects I’ve entertained over time. I’ve made false promises in the past about restarting these vocations. In these six years, this is the most mentally prepared I've felt to do this.  I still have a long way to go, but it's a start.

And that, my friends, is how we get to this column. 

Another activity of my self-imposed Sabbatical was in reading collections of work by columnists. I’ve long wanted to do a regular film-related column. Blogging regularly is like writing a column, I concur. And with each new edition of Screen Captures, I hope to achieve a body of work that will serve at least two purposes.

First, I hope that each new edition will entertain its readers with whatever arcane topics strike my fancy at the moment. This is an exercise for me to return to a regular regimen of writing about what kindles my creative passions.

More crucially, it will hopefully serve as a record of independent screenings and events, plus the movers and shakers who make that happen. This city has seen dramatic changes in the past few years. Gentrification and sky-high real estate has forced the closure of many favourite haunts. Artists continue to struggle for the same pieces of the pie; only problem is, the pie itself has gotten smaller. Since its debut in 2001, ESR has always felt part of the indie culture scene, as that is chiefly where we have sold our wares. Even if we sell socks, while others in the underground sell gloves, there is nonetheless a kinship. We’re all addressing a need for something not offered by the mainstream.

Over time that scene has diminished in some ways, and mutated in others. I hope Screen Captures will exist as a living record of that vital piece of culture, as it continues its sine wave pattern on the fringes.

Forgive the indulgences of this first endeavour: I just felt it necessary to begin with a long, personal tract to help you understand how we got here, and where we’re going.

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Independent Screenings Of Note:

Apparently there was some big film festival in the city recently. As a result, people tend to be “movied out” for the rest of September. But for those of us who couldn’t afford the $89.75 just to say they inhaled some of the same O2 as Bradley Cooper, and are looking for something beyond all the hoopla, here are some noteworthy independent screenings happening over the next seven days. (Wouldn’t you know it? Two are on the same night. It happens a lot in this scene.)

Thurs Sept. 20 - Directed By Women Screening Series 

The first in a series of free screenings of films directed by women, features Shoes (1916), directed by Lois Weber. This film was recently restored, and entered into the National Film Registry in 2014. Silent film pioneer Lois Weber’s work has been enjoying a renaissance in recent times. It was generously featured on TCM last year, and this spring, The Toronto Silent Film Festival showed 1927’s Sensation Seekers. 

Media Commons – Roberts Library; 130 St. George St., 3rd Floor. Toronto, ON. Admission is free! Doors open at 6:15 PM, films begin at 6:35 PM. Admission is free!

Click here for future titles in this series.

Thurs Sept. 20 - Ad Hoc# 12: David Morris in person with his films

The not-for-profit collective continues their impressive screenings of independent-experimental cinema with Concordia professor David Morris in person presenting his films: (Shekhina) Series - Projection (Super8, 1990), Ruakh (Super 8 and 35mm), and MPQ suite (digital).

Morris’s films are composed and edited in camera, and shot (with few exceptions) frame by single frame (‘pixilated’). The Super 8 films are shown in original at approximately 12 frames per second. 

Pix Film Gallery; 1411 Dufferin Street, Unit C, Toronto. 7 PM. Admission is free!

Fri Sept 21 – CINSSU Free Friday Films

It's back to school season, which means that the cheapest movie date on a Friday night is also back in action! The Cinema Studies Student Union has a stellar line-up this season devoted to the theme of "Music And Film". This week, it's Bob Fosse's 1972 Cabaret, with Liza Minnelli.
Innis Town Hall, 2 Sussex Ave, Toronto. 7 PM. Admission is free!

Sun Sept 23 - Art House Theater Day
As a tribute to cinema in the art house, The Revue Cinema is showing Agnes Varda's 1962 nouvelle vague classic, Cleo De 5 a 7. The event is free, but it is recommended to get a ticket beforehand by visiting the event page at Eventbrite here.
Revue Cinema, 400 Roncesvalles Ave., Toronto. 6:45 PM. Admission is free!

(Have an upcoming screening to plug? Drop me a line at: mail at screening dash room dot ca)

DVD - BluRay Releases This Week:

Sept. 18 sees two new releases from Arrow: Peter Fonda’s revisionist western The Hired Hand, and Teruo Ishii’s cult classic, Horrors of Malformed Men.

And from ClassicFlix, the complete Blondie 1957 TV series. Now this I’ve gotta see! Chic Young’s classic comic strip character was in a series of 28 films by Columbia, from 1938 to 1950, featuring Penny Singleton as Blondie, and Arthur Lake as Dagwood. Lake reprises his role for the TV series; Blondie is played by Pamela Britton. 

Other Events of Note:

It's a literary weekend in TO.

Sat. Sept 22: Broken Pencil returns with Canzine, Canada's largest zine fair, at the AGO. 317 Dundas St. W., Toronto. 11AM - 7 PM. Admission is $5 by donation.

Sun. Sept 23: Word On The Street is back at Harbourfont. This huge fair of books, magazines, readings and all things literary is at Harbourfront Centre, 10 AM - 5 PM. Admission is free!