At Least in Theory
I finally got to see what the fuss was all about. Don Hardy, the director of the Residents’ The Theory of Obscurity, visited last Saturday to show me and my friends the finished film. Roman had rented the VFW Hall and everybody was there, if you count about 20 people as everybody, and I do.
My friend Marta popped way too much popcorn and there was plentiful beer. Roman had put a little red throw rug at the door of the hall so people could have a red-carpet moment, posing for imaginary cameras. One person wore a tiera. People were jacked up. This is a tiny town where excitement usually meant hanging out at the minimart.
It seemed that as soon as the screen lit up, people started chuckling, but in a good natured way. I was surprised because I didn’t see any humor at first, but laughter is contagious. I started seeing through their eyes. This was not an audience of fans, most never heard of The Residents so the whole thing was seen as a well constructed farce, an absurdist comedy. I think my mischievous persona was finally making sense to my neighbors. Maybe not exactly “sense,” but knowing me as they do, it just made them laugh. That and the beer… and the weed. Maybe just the weed.
After it was over Noman came to me and said he thought I was great in it, I smiled and thanked him but since I’m not actually in the film I wondered if he even knew what I looked like. He might only see me as an old person and old people all look alike. The movie is full of old people.
The people who didn’t immediately run away when it was over seemed to have a warm glow about them. Even Roman. He asked if we could rent tuxedos and attend the Oscars next year. Hollywood fever. He pantomimed small-talking with George Clooney.
I was reminded that I had briefly shared a space with George Clooney years ago when he played a doctor on TV. I was in LA at some agency and George Clooney was also in the waiting room. A meticulously groomed lady came in and said, “Mr. Clooney,” and gently shook his hand. I can’t explain why I so clearly remember this since it amounted to absolutely nothing. Celebrities. So strange.
If there was a celebrity here, it was Don. A large portion of the remaining viewers had gathered around him, there must have been at least 3 people. I kept catching his eye and I knew he wanted to get feedback from me. But I had to slip out. I was tired of being polite.
The next day I hand-wrote Don a letter, I wanted to be more formal in my response. It didn’t say much. I thanked him for making a professional film. For his long hours and hard work putting it together. For the amusing lies and inside jokes he knowingly included. But mostly, for giving my friends a good laugh.
My friend Marta popped way too much popcorn and there was plentiful beer. Roman had put a little red throw rug at the door of the hall so people could have a red-carpet moment, posing for imaginary cameras. One person wore a tiera. People were jacked up. This is a tiny town where excitement usually meant hanging out at the minimart.
It seemed that as soon as the screen lit up, people started chuckling, but in a good natured way. I was surprised because I didn’t see any humor at first, but laughter is contagious. I started seeing through their eyes. This was not an audience of fans, most never heard of The Residents so the whole thing was seen as a well constructed farce, an absurdist comedy. I think my mischievous persona was finally making sense to my neighbors. Maybe not exactly “sense,” but knowing me as they do, it just made them laugh. That and the beer… and the weed. Maybe just the weed.
After it was over Noman came to me and said he thought I was great in it, I smiled and thanked him but since I’m not actually in the film I wondered if he even knew what I looked like. He might only see me as an old person and old people all look alike. The movie is full of old people.
The people who didn’t immediately run away when it was over seemed to have a warm glow about them. Even Roman. He asked if we could rent tuxedos and attend the Oscars next year. Hollywood fever. He pantomimed small-talking with George Clooney.
I was reminded that I had briefly shared a space with George Clooney years ago when he played a doctor on TV. I was in LA at some agency and George Clooney was also in the waiting room. A meticulously groomed lady came in and said, “Mr. Clooney,” and gently shook his hand. I can’t explain why I so clearly remember this since it amounted to absolutely nothing. Celebrities. So strange.
If there was a celebrity here, it was Don. A large portion of the remaining viewers had gathered around him, there must have been at least 3 people. I kept catching his eye and I knew he wanted to get feedback from me. But I had to slip out. I was tired of being polite.
The next day I hand-wrote Don a letter, I wanted to be more formal in my response. It didn’t say much. I thanked him for making a professional film. For his long hours and hard work putting it together. For the amusing lies and inside jokes he knowingly included. But mostly, for giving my friends a good laugh.