The rest of my trip

Here are some random notes from the rest of my Southern Circuit tour.

JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI

After a terrific day spent in New Orleans, walking around the French Quarter and reading from Tennessee Williams' notebooks in a used bookstore on Decatur, I drove to Jackson, Mississipi for a screening. The date was sparesely attended but the people who came had good questions. And, Austin, my host, was a pleasure to meet.

LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY

I flew from Jackson to Atlanta, then up to Louisville. What a city! I really enjoyed my time there. Indie Producer Gill Holland showed me around town for an entire afternoon and I came to appreciate what a great cultural city it it--with a ballet, opera, museums, galleries, indie film, and, of course, the Actors Theater of Lousiville. Gill introduced me to some people and I saw quite a bit of the city. The screening went very well with a sizable crowd at the extraordinary Kentucky Center. Everybody at the Kentucky Center was great. Q & A lasted till we had to leave--and responses to Disappearances were complex and illuminating to me, as they sometimes are, providing new revelations and dimensions of the film to me. I'd love to come back here.

HOLLYWOOD, FLORIDA

The screening here was pleasant, with a terriifc response--but another very small crowd. I discussed audience development ideas with the presenters afterwards--and said I'd try to put together a memo affering ideas that might be useful for futuire programs. The Southern Circuit is a terrific program -- the only one of its kind in the U.S.--and it deserves to continue, with
substantial and vibrant audiences. And all of the sponsoring organizations are very committed to the idea. In a number of the places I visited, the shows were well attended. But in several, the crowds were small and might benefit from some coorinated effort to build them.

I arrived in Hollywood and had the better part of the afternoon to myself. I'd received an e-mail when I arrived from a former student who's developing a documentary with me on kids in a variety of school settings. She was about to visit some schools in the South Bronx and we discussed some issues of race. She'd had a tense confrontation that day.

Early in my Southern Circuit trip a progressive South Carolina friend remarked to me that some southern racial attitudes had not changed much--something that I hadn't really noticed much, perhaps because I was largely focused on driving, flying, and screening. And, of course, my home state of Vermont, which prides itself on its progressivism, has a pretty mixed record on race. I don't look at the south as the place where racial issues are unresolved--far from it. Boston and New England, in general, have a long way to go. As does the rest of the country. My second feature film, A Stranger in the Kingdom, was inspired by the state's most notorious racial incident and while touring the film I became aware of many other incidents, including a number of them that occured during the time I was on the road. The challenge of bridging the racial gap in America remains daunting.

But, in Florida, I took the afternoon off, walked around Hollywood and went to a YMCA to work out. And I made a point of noting observations that had anything to do with race. Here's some of what I observed:

I watched twice as white men talked non-stop to uninterested blacks who got caught in their line of fire. One fellow was holding forth for a half hour while I waited for my shuttle and ate continental breakfast at the hotel. The black couple was practically wilting under his rap about immigrants, taxes, and his experiences buying various kinds of chain saws and pick-up trucks. At one point he explained that he likes to talk and it doesn't really matter to whom. And that he thought a guy
he'd met the night before might have been there for breakfast but he wasn't so he talked to the couple instead. They noded and seemed to understand.

The second case was a young black woman airport security guard having to listen to her white co-worker who just talked
about nothing in particular--except it was all very opinionated.

Both guys were well-meaning--but seemed to expect that the black folks to they talked were cool being on the receiving end of one-way conversations. It was kind of funny. Maybe I mis-read both situations but I don't think so.

The Hollywood YMCA had a racially mixed race crowd--about 2/3 black. The mixed race kids were dancing and playing basketball. Seemed to get along well. In the steam bath I decided to strike up a conversation with a black guy, probably in his forties. And he opened up like you wouldn't believe. About municipal government, home costs, taxes, the losing cause
of the arts in downtown, and his experiences in various southern states with allergies and pollen.

Prior to my making contact, he seemed closed down and kept to himself but once I made a couple of comments he was off and running. Back at my locker, I asked another black guy, a young African-accented guy in his late 20's--what he was listening to on an I-pod. He was startled by my question. I tried to keep it light, just wanting to make contact.

"You ain't going to like it," he said.

"No, It's fine," I said.

"Well, I got Guns and Roses, Megadeth, MArilyn Manson, and Ozzie Ozborne." he said.

"Cool," I said.

Out in the lobby a white girl in her late teens was holding forth with some black girls. "And then she wanted to know where Gloria Estefan lived," said the white girl. "What did she think I was? A celebrity whore?"

One of the black girls laughed, then turned to another. "So what happened to Jimmy?"

"He shot this guy in the arm." said the other black girl. "They gave him four months in jail."

My final onservation occured after I dropped off my rental car and made my way to the shuttle to the airline. An upbeat Hispanic guy bounded from his bus with a bounce in his step--to help carry my excessive (and obsessive) burden of baggage (mostly books in the unlikely event I find time for script development). Anyway, a nice guy and he hefted a couple of bags up into the bus for me.

On the bus, a middle aged white guy was standing in the middle of everything. The Hispanic driver asked him to kindly take a seat. The white guy refused and became immediately adamant. The driver repeated his request, since the white guy was blocking people who were trying to get on the bus. The white guy refused to budge and called the driver, in his late 30's, "boy."

The driver was ready to slug the guy but backed off and went to his driver's seat, saying that he needed to start driving before he did something he'd regret. The white guy just kept baiting the Hispanic during the drive, telling the driver, among other things, that he was stupid and should just go back to where he came from. The dynamics had nothing to do with race but the white chose to make them into something racial.

I don't know why I chose to include this--except that it's what I noted in my tour diary. And it doesn't suggest anything other than what occured in these isolated incidents. I sometimes observe conversations and behaviors and take notes on them for script development.

I enjoyed my Southern Circuit tour and hope to do it again sometime. I was able to experience my film in new wayts with audiences here. The program is important--and has more potential. I made good contacts that I'll maintain--and I hope to come back here to shoot my next film.

Thanks so much to everybody that made the trip possible.

O-town.

A very good time in Orangeburg on Sunday evening.

Far out venue, as the film was shown in a planetarium. Yeah, those dome shaped theaters where they project the universe up on the walls and ceiling; however, this time around it was our Salton Sea documentary. Neat!

Then, the audience was nice mix of university students and others. The students were really thinking about the issues and implications of the goings on at the Sea, so there were a couple challenging questions, but I'm always game for a challenge and think I answered them well enough, if not very well. One never knows, as when you're doing a Q&A, it's hard to maintain a good perspective on yourself.

Afterwards, I had a chance to chat it up with a few folks, particularly, a nice young man who is considering moving out to LA after graduation to work in film, so he was wondering what the lowdown was on that megalopolis to the west. Moving to LA is always difficult, but there is is a wonder of opportunities there, so it's hard not to just give it a shot and see what happens.

I myself did LA for 8 years, which were all good, but given that there are so many interesting places in the world, it's hard to just stay in once place. Thank god for the road.

Lates.

Chris

Life on road and oysters...

Ah-ha! As you might have figured out, blogging from the road isn't so easy when you're hanging out with fab folk like your hosts or random audience members. That bodes well for me and the folks along the Southern Circuit, but not so well for you in the internet ether. I assume you understand, but with a cool, enthusiastic screening In Beaufort, a bucket of local oysters, and some kayaking in the salt marsh, all is good except that I missed a trip with my next host in Orangeburg, Ellen, and her students going to Penn Center. It sounds like a phenomenal place, so that's on my to do list next time I hit the South Carolina coast.

Also of note, I think a few folks from my screening in Beaufort might actually make a road trip out to the Salton Sea and one person called me to inquire about land, so to say there are surprises to be had speaks the truth.

Best,

Chris

Note: These local oysters come in bunches, so while tasty, they'd be what you might categorize as a fun, dirty food. Great for me, as I already spill a bunch on myself already, so this is the food built for me.

On the road...

Hey fab folks.

Yeap, this is the first of what will hopefully be several postings from me, director, Chris Metzler, of the documentary PLAGUES & PLEASURES ON THE SALTON SEA.

So far, I've kicked off our stretch of the Southern Circuit with screenings in Athens, GA and Columbia, SC, all of which were good and hosted by some cool people, so props to that.

After some good ole fashioned partying and listening to music in Athens into the late hours last night, I'm sadly having to hang my hat up early tonight in preparation for an early drive to Bluffton, SC tomorrow to talk to some high school students about filmmaking. I'm jazzed about this, as this was the sort of thing that I really enjoyed as a student, so it's nice to repay the favor to some other future filmmakers.

However, Columbia, I thank-you for your friendliness and I will return one day to paint the town red.

Keep on truckin'.

Chris

Christopher Metzler tours with Southern Circuit from November 7 - 15

Listen to an audio inteview with Christopher Metzler

View the trailer for Plagues and Pleasures on the Salton Sea

Get more information about the film and Christopher's tour

On the road

I made it to my Disappearances screening at HIGH POINT, NC, by the way, and was pleasantly surprised by the turnout and reception to the film. The program director, Louisa Hart, had prepared me for a small turnout and said that the attendance
in the series so far numbered about 15--this is their first year. But about 35 people showed up. I gave my intro, comparing the picture to a western and adding in the ways in which it being a New Engkand picture made it a different kind of western, steeped in elements like generations of family, settled community, and a rich cultural past that generally didn;'t show up on the edge of the western frontier until later. And I talked up the film's magical realism.

A local NC actor with whom I'd corresponded but never met showed up and we went out for dinner once the show started. I told him I felt that I had said the wrong things in the intro since people didn't seem to keen on any of it. I said I expected a cool repsonse, at best. But we came back for the end of the show and the crowd responded great--better than I'd dreamed possible. And they bought a raft of DVD's--always a good sign. A 92 year-old veteran of the west Virginia coal mines came uo afterwards and talked about his families participation in the illegal booze business back in the 20's and 30's. A 12 year old kid asked most of the questions during the Q & A--and he seemed satisfied with the film--and my answers. His mom bought him a DVD, too.

High Point is best known as a place where thousands of furniture buyers show up twice a year for mammouth showcases in the multi-million square foot showrooms that abut the theater. During the rest of the year, things apparently stay pretty quiet. The outskirts of town are filled with modern malls, however, and what appears to be a thriving retail and restaurant scene.

I told the High Point crowd that my next planned film, They Don't Dance Much, is based on an only novel by a now-deceased newspaperman from Greensboro, just 8 miles down the road. The fact that I have a southern script in my back pocket is allowing me to meet a number of potential supporters and/or participants on the tour.

One of those people materialized unexpectedly at the ASHEVILLE, NC screening. A former Hollywood director took me out to dinner afterwards and offered to involve the college where he now teaches in the production of They Don't Dance Much. He said he mobilize experienced students and faculty along with some equipment and who knows what else? This was a good contact, although, strangely, I'd met the director at his home in LA in 1989, when I was starting to prepare my first feature. I didn't know anybody or anything about the movie business and he kindly allowed me to come by his place and ask questions. It's a small world.

The local Southern Circuit organizer and director of the Media Arts Project, Alison Watson, had her work cut out for her, mobilizing an audience for this Halloween screening. The crowd was small but it was great to hear about all she's doing for area media artists--and we talked about doing something again in the future. The theater was terrific and everybody was good to work with. Back at the hotel pandemonium reigned as hundreds of Haloween costumed young people showed up, beer coolers in tow, for a Widespread Panic concert. The final party cresecendo peaked between 2 and 4am, with lots of revery and good cheer.

The CLEMSON screening went smoothly and I joined organzer and Clemson faculty member Amy Monaghan for dinner before the show. Several current and former students also joined us--and it interesting to hear about the fledgling film studies program there. Amy is well-versed in film and has also worked at places like the Brattle Theater in Cambridge. So she knows the indie scene, too. The audience of about fifty consisted of mostly students and there were a number of good queestions. In retrospect, i wished I'd planned to have Amy join me up front to help solicit and frame questions that suited the classes she's teaching. But the session went fine and one student expressed interest in working on my next picture as an intern. And she said she liked the film.

CHARLESTON was a blast. I spent the afternoon with South Carolina-based producer Peter Wentworth who took me to the College of Charleston's John Rivers Communication Museum where we spent more than an hour talking with Rick Zender an amzing source of information about the film, television, radio, and live music scenes in an around Charleston for the past century. They Don't Dance Much is set at an early 1950's roadhouse--and we got to lay our eyes on an authentic juke box from the period, among other things. I'm hoping that Peter Wentworth will help produce the picture--and that we'll shoot it in the Carolinas or Georgia. This will be a new move for me, outside of New England. I shot my third feature, The Year That Trembled in Ohio but it was for producers there. They Don;t Dance Much will be my first feature which I produce outside of Vermont.

We went to dinner with Halsey Institute of Contemporary Art director, Mark Sloan. Mark does extraordinary visdionary work, curating a ground breaking exhibition program and making opportuntites available to other artists as well. He gave me a book, Wild, Weird, and Wonderful, that he wrote about circuses that rolled through Brockton, Mass. during the early 20th century and were photographed by F.W. Glasier. It's a beautiful and fascinating book--and Mark knew of my involvement as co-founder of the Vermont-based Circus Smirkus during the mid-80's, an ambitious grass-roots circus starring kids who go on the road each summer under a 500 seat tent.

Peter Wentworth's wife, Margery, also joined us for dinner and added a lively dimension, as South Carolina's poet laureate. The whole afternoon and evening, set against the respendent backdrop of old Charleston, were a delight. Oh, right, I almost forgot to mention the screening, which went great. A very responsive and thoughtful audience seemed to "get" the film and they asked a number of stimulating questions. Although no one yet has commented on the fact that the film's French-Canadian villain, Carcajou (played by Lothaire Bluteau) wears both Union and Confderate officer's uniforms in two different scenes. Maybe they simply had it figured out. Thanks to Mark and also to Katie Lee who got me set up at the fine campus guest house and ran the tech part of the program, never an easy task when a director adjusts picture and sound levels to the point of distraction.

LAKE CHARLES, LOUISIANA also produced an enthusiastic modest-sized crowd that stayed around for a lengthy Q & A--and bought a raft of DVD's. The event was sponsored by a new film series group, mostly consisting of local media makers and screenwriters. What they're doing is quite exciting--screening work by each other and other area filmmakers--and building audience for local work. If I'd had a little more time, it would have been interesting to conduct a screenwriting workshop while I was there.

I took my day off in New Orleans, always a treat. The city seems to be gearing up to its former glory, with an energetic music scene along Bourbon Street and a terrific new version of Waiting for Godot, set against the 9th ward's wait for FEMA in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.

Heading south

I got off to a shaky start for the Southern Circuit when two
multiple car collisions stopped traffic for an hour and a
half kept me from gettting to my flight on time. And since
I had a screening scheduled for 7:30pm in High Point, N.C.,
I worried about whether I'd make it.

Once I finally broke loose from the trafiic and raced to Logan, I
scrambled out of the car and quickly stuffed a few remaining items--
including a dozen books -- into my bags. I always take a bag full of
research books with me when I travel, since I fully intend to use
downtime to advance my newest script. The books are heavy and
I rarely get to use them, but even one day of writing helps advance
the next project. And I guess it's always good to know that
they're there.

With stuff still flying out of my bags, the regular gate shuttle was nowhere
to be seen. So I commandeered an airport maintenance van driver to get
me to the gate. Maybe I could still make the flight and be assured
of getting to the screening. But I missed the flight and booked
a seat on the next Boston shuttle to Washington D.C.--with a 6pm
arrival in High Point. But I still had one or two obstacles to
overcome. The first was that, in my haste, I had thown too much
stuff into too many bags. The airline clerk wanted to charge me an
extra $80--so I repacked on the spot, stuffing the contents of
one bag into another. I shoved my checked bags onto the scales
and closed my eyes. They were still too heavy so and re-shuffled again,
putting more than I wanted to lug around into my carry-on
bags. Now I was legit.

Then on to the gate. I got snagged at the x-ray machine
for "liquids" that mistakenly ended up in my carry-on bag
as a result of the re-shuffling. Normally, I'd just chuck them
--but I realized that I had two tubes of this Bert's Bees
avocado hair stuff that keeps my hair from flying out everywhere
and getting totally weird. I pay $12 a tube for it--and I suddenly
decided I was unwilling to throw it away. Just out of principal.
I don't know why I had two tubes but I guess I just threw
them into my bag when they arrived by mail.

So, I decided to do the "plastic bag" routine, which
I'd never done before--which meant I had to leave
the gate area, go all the way back out to a news stand
and buy a 35 cent plastic bag to put all the stuff into.

Except that the bag could only contain bottles of
3.5 ounces or less. And the avacado tubes were
4 oz. So, I rummaged at the newstand and found a set
of three empty 3.5 oz. plastic bottles that were designed for
suckers like me.

So I bought them with exactly 20 minutes to get to the
airplane. And I went into the men's room to squeeze
all the avocado goop out of their tubes and into the new
plastic bottles.

You can see where this is going.

The messiest toddler--after helping herself to a quart of apple
sauce would look like Martha Stewart compared to the way I ended up. The
goop was too thick to go neatly into the bottles--and when
I got the nozzle into the plastic bottle, the stuff formed a seal and
wouldn't go in at all--so I moved the tube a touch off center
and the stuff flopped out and oozed everywhere.

I had to completely wash up three times--and managed to
capture about 1/4 of the avocado stuff and should have
given up but I was determined at this point. It took 17 minutes
to perform this operation, as stupefiedmen in business suits
wondered what in hell I was doing.

So, I sprinted back tot he x-ray machine and they searched
everything, including me, from top to bottom. And they
found another tube of the avocado stuff and chucked it,
and then said I was only allowed to have one plastic baggie
of stuff--and I had two--so they chucked that.

Then they did two rounds of bomb tests on my computer
and on the remaining avocado stuff, since it was obvious that it has
been recently forced into the bottle, which, by the way, will
never squeeze it back out. I will have to suck it out of
the bottle, like syphoning gas out of a tank--and spit it
into my hands and rub it on my head after I wash my
hair--and I only have enough for about four showers.

So, I was now late for the next plane, which meant
I wouldn't make the new connection, so I ran to the
gate, telling them to hold it open....

and guess what?

The pilot had gotten stuck in same traffic jams I did--and
he was late--so I made it.

NEXT: Arriving in High Point.