Neighborhood Movie Night

Last night I was in the right place at the right time: at the Balboa for the kick-off of a three-night run celebrating the work of JULIE CARMEN. One of those actors you instantly recognize, but can’t quite pin down.

Baked and glazed in New York City, Julie got her start off-off-Broadway before snagging the role as the Puerto Rican mother opposite Gena Rowlands in John Cassavetes’ Gloria. Not a bad start.

[You haven’t seen Gloria? That film is HUGE around here. Even on the small screen.]

Today Julie is one of those shape-shifting actresses with a list of credits longer than your right arm. From that Cassavetes’ credit, she built a solid body of work with such luminaries as Robert Redford, John Carpenter, Michael Mann, Quentin Tarantino—and others like the man behind the man… wait for it: Robert. Mailer. Anderson. And she starred in Fright Night.

Last night they began the three night film fest celebrating Julie with a bang: In the Mouth of Madness. A John Carpenter jam. Itself a H.P. Lovecraft by way of Stephen King fever dream. Followed by a Q and A with Julie Carmen and Robert Mailer Anderson.

Tonight is night two. Featuring Night of the Juggler from 1980. A big movie for Quentin Tarantino as it turns out. A gritty NYC jam, a nod to the jogging craze of the day. [Beware health nuts!] This one also beats the whole “intense dad hunting down the kidnapper” plot—later perfected ad nauseam by Liam Neeson and Mel Gibson. Night of the Juggler beat it to the punch by about forty years. But who’s counting?

For those of us still here in San Francisco, one of the perks of living in the heart of the Money Belt is the movies. For a while we had more art houses per capita than anywhere else. But that’s water under the bridge. The single screen theater has been on the endangered species list for a while—even if not quite long enough to be taken off the list by The Current Administration. (Hell, try to find a bowling alley in this burg.)

The art houses are going down one by one by one. [I should have some kind of Ken Burns graphic here that shows each theatre falling. You know the ones, the red rectangles. Does Substack offer anything like that? I wonder.]

The York! The Red Vic, the Clay, the Northpoint! Gone, baby gone(!!!) More condos for the homeless AI tech bros. Condos with housekeeping and tea service.

But, somehow, a few single screen retro houses refuse to go down without a fight. Thanks in no small part to the non-profit CinemaSF, Balboa Theatre, the Vogue, and the 4-Star are very much alive and well.

Yeah, despite the Revenge of the Multiplexes and the Dread (Covid) and all the doldrums about streaming and episodics and people staying home, it’s cool to see people coming out. Which ain’t no iPad, tray-table, headphones-half-working nonsense. Real, live, in-the-flesh movie viewing is still available! Yes, it is.

Personally, you don’t have to ask me twice to sit in the dark. Be still. And just dig the majesty of the big screen. We certainly won’t be hitting Best Buy any day soon to haul home a construction worker big screen TV.

Oh, and last night, it was touching to see Julie Carmen’s family there. Her daughter, along with an entourage of friends.

You could feel the love.

Robert Anderson describes these evenings at the Balboa as a “neighborhood movie night.” Sounds about right to me.

I still remember squeezing into somebody else’s Country Squire station wagon at the drive-in in Santa Ana, watching Manhattan on the big screen. I was probably 12. I didn’t understand half of what I was seeing, but I remember looking at that city and thinking, I’ve got to get out of this place. (Me and Eric Burdon both.) I mean, they’ve got surfing in New York, right?

Onwards,

-CP

P.S. In a couple weeks, we’ll be loading up the Econoline and heading Eastward: FloydFest, Petaluma, Denver, Kansas City, Des Moines, Three Oaks, Madison, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Chicago, Cincinatti, Louisville, Nashville, Atlanta, St. Petersburg, Tampa, New Orleans, Houston, Austin. You know where to find more info.