Livin’ in New York City Post 27: Parties Parties Parties

After hours of work, the block that houses the famed Chelsea Hotel was made over to look like it did in 1964 for the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown” which is currently filming in New York City, New Jersey and Montreal.

Ever since the WGA strike ended in September and the SAG-AFTRA strike ended in November, I’ve been waiting for the film industry to really bounce back. As soon as these strikes ended, late-night shows, scripted television productions and live shows (like “Saturday Night Live”) immediately started back up again and that side of the industry has felt this sense of normalcy for a while. While film premieres and marketing have returned in full swing, the city hasn’t felt like a film town for months with the exception of the numerous low-budget indie films that are made by aspiring filmmakers, like myself, and seasoned veterans of the fringe. 

That dry spell has officially ended as, this past week, two pretty huge productions have started filming in the city and with the massive crews that you’d expect from a big-budget studio picture. “A Complete Unknown”, a biopic centered on Bob Dylan (played by Timothée Chalamet) during his early days in New York as the blossoming folk singer who will turn into a rock icon, began filming scenes in New York and New Jersey. Meanwhile, another period piece also shot sequences on the streets of New York. “SNL 1975”, a film centered on Lorne Michaels (played by Gabriel LaBelle, last seen in “The Fabelmans”) as he teams up with a plethora of talented comics to create “Saturday Night Live”, also shot scenes outside of Rockefeller Center. 

The fact that such massive productions have made their way to New York is quite exciting for me. While my likelihood of joining said productions is pretty slim given that they’re mainly union jobs and both films are already filming, it would be exciting to be able to see these films in production before they switch production locations. I would just like to see these sets in action, the production assistants racing back and forth, the cinematographer lining up a shot, the actors blocking and the director calling action. It would just be a good reminder of what I’m ultimately working towards. Until then, best of luck to both films and the many others that will be shot in New York this year. 

In the meantime, I’ve been meditating on my own projects as well as continuously supporting indie films and meeting other filmmakers. One of the best ways to do so is by attending screenings put on by Reunion, a collective that screens short films from a variety of filmmakers at various cinemas across the city. A few weeks ago, I went to a Reunion screening at the Village East Cinema on Second Avenue which featured, as usual, an eclectic mix. Among the films were “Invincible”, a powerful dramatic short film that was nominated at the recent Academy Awards for Best Live-Action Short (losing to Wes Anderson’s “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar”), “Sleeping Beauty”, a meditative short with a surreal dreamlike tone that starred Francesca Scorsese, and “Fettyland”, an incredible film detailing the experiences of Florida residents addicted to fentanyl that was made in collaboration with people who are fentanyl addicts. All of these films, along with other great work that was screened, really offered something entertaining and sincere. 

To meet filmmakers and see their short films at a Reunion screening is an excellent experience that I’ll want to repeat in the future.

More importantly, Reunion screenings are a great way for filmmakers to connect to fans and fellow filmmakers as, often, many of the filmmakers attend these screenings and participate in a Q&A. It’s for this reason that I always sit in the front row of a theater whenever a Q&A is promised. What’s even better is the after-party in the main lobby where you get to meet the filmmakers, shake hands and just trade information and fun stories. Even if nothing comes of these meetings, you still got to support a fellow filmmaker and that really makes all the difference. 

While I don’t consider myself a musician, I have a strong love for the local music scene, especially when it’s my friends who are playing the songs. With that said, I do play some guitar (acoustic mainly but I don’t practice nearly enough) and I found that I needed some new strings. I could have gone to a Guitar Center or to another big store but I really wanted to support a local business and I knew just the one. I’d been to the Music Inn multiple times, including when I masqueraded as Bob Dylan on Halloween, but I never bought any music supplies from there. So, I ventured into Greenwich Village, made my walk down the middle of Jones Street in homage to the album cover of “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” and went into the Music Inn to get some guitar strings from the owner Jeff Slatnick. 

As I was checking out, I noticed behind him a series of Hohner harmonicas and asked if I could see one. You see, my great-grandfather was a pretty good harp player but, ever since his passing in 2017, there’s been a musical void in my family. So, I picked up a blues harp along with my strings. Not ready to go home, I went to Washington Square Park to see what was happening. Like always, it didn’t disappoint. Since the fountain in the center of the park is only full of water in the summer, the empty space was being used by skateboarders while a multitude of students, tourists and assorted characters were all sitting on the edges to read, smoke, socialize or do whatever they came to do. 

At various points in the park, there were musicians and one that really stuck out to me was this jam band called the Electric Sound Collective that was composed of a couple of guitarists, a bass player, a drummer and a guy on the accordion. While they were on the opposite side of the fountain that I was on, I was able to hear their funky jam perfectly with an excellent mix of R&B, blues and soul. Since I was digging the beat, I took my new harmonica out of the packaging and started fiddling with it. For me, it was pretty easy to get used to once I understood the different pitches of all ten holes. I just started experimenting with different note progressions until I found one that worked with the rhythm of the song. Then, when I was getting bored or when the song changed gears, I would try to find another lick to hook onto. 

This went on for about an hour until the band took a short break and I moved my stuff to get closer to them. Sitting next to the band, I started playing along once they started up again and a few of them gave me nods of approval. They were happy that I was enjoying the music and that I was participating in what way I could. After another hour of this, a group of musicians my age showed up (two guitarists and a bassist) and asked if they could join in the jam with their amplifiers. The ESC agreed and the band got significantly bigger. Seeing my chance, I jumped off of my perch and began playing my harmonica not as a spectator but as a temporary member of this band. A few minutes later, a saxophone player showed up, joined the group and it was on. 

We played from 1 p.m. to 7 p.m. and it was like lightning the way these musicians could work off of each other. The best part about the set-up for me was that, aside from the guitarists and bassist, nobody was connected to amps. In this kind of environment, my harmonica could really only be heard by myself, the musicians and the people that were really close to me. So, if I made a mistake, no one would really notice and I wouldn’t tank the song. However, from my end, I thought I was pretty alright. Okay, I’m not Paul Butterfield or Sonny Boy Willamson II and I’m definitely not my great-grandfather but it was a fun start. 

With, at best, amateur experience on a harmonica, I still found the confidence to take part in a jam session with other musicians in Washington Square Park.

Since the saxophonist and I were the only ones not strapped to an amp or behind a drum kit, this gave us some mobility and we took advantage of that. In the park, someone had made these gigantic circles in chalk with captions like “Screaming Circle”, “Hugging Circle” and “Dancing Circle.” Lucky for us, the dancing circle was right in front of the band and we would sometimes make our way to the circle while we were all still playing and dance with the audience. Sometimes I would stop playing my harmonica and make these gestures to the guitarist like I was conjuring some kind of spirit out of the notes. Other times I would trade notes with the saxophonist. 

When the six hour set was over, I was delirious and nearly out of breath but I was having so much fun that I didn’t care. While I have been fiddling with the blues harp quite a bit since then, I think I need to take some formal lessons (maybe in conjunction with guitar lessons) if I ever want to be the harp player my great-grandfather was. At least I know I’ve got the harmonica gene. 

In terms of local music, I have been steadfast in my support of Camp Bedford. Ever since I saw these incredible people perform in September, I’ve stuck to them like glue. Their positive energy, caring community and excellent music are so infectious that going to their shows has basically become a compulsion at this point. With Camp Bedford, they often perform on a bill with other local bands performing before and/or after them. In addition, they have graced the stage at a vast multitude of venues so following their music and becoming friends with the band and their community has given me numerous opportunities to discover other groups and fun places in the city. However, I have yet to see anything that beats Camp Bedford in my eye despite many valiant attempts. 

Whether it was a rooftop performance at Our Wicked Lady in East Williamsburg or a recent Saint Patrick’s Day show at The Knitting Factory in The East Village, there’s a real power to this music that I can’t escape from nor do I want to. It’s also spawned other great tunes outside of the Camp Bedford apparatus. Just a couple of weeks ago, I went to see Tallen Gabriel (the cellist of Camp Bedford) perform a solo show with a new band called Captain Tallen and the Benevolent Entities in celebration of an upcoming album of solo material from Tallen. 

Held at the Unruly Collective in Bushwick, the venue was a house with a basement that was tricked out to host live music and serve alcohol. The upstairs was this open living room with a kitchen spread, old rugs, nice furniture and goofy paintings. The entire place had this clubhouse feel to it, almost like Big Pink up in Woodstock down to having music in the basement. The intimacy was truly beautiful and whether it’s Camp Bedford, a member’s solo project or one of their friends, I will make it a priority to show up. I’ve been fortunate to stumble onto some artistic scenes in New York that I have fallen in love with and I feel that this community of artists and musicians is my favorite. There’s this genuine love to it all that you can’t help but want to be a part of. 

Seeing an energized performance by Camp Bedford never gets old.

As a lover of cinema, of course I eagerly await the Oscars, my equivalent of the Super Bowl. I am always excited to see the pageantry, the speeches, the recognition of great filmmakers and an occasional gaff like an infamous slap or streaker. But as fun as watching the awards is, I tune in to show my support, however small, for the filmmakers who inspire me with their great work. Unlike other years, where I would watch the Oscars from my living room couch, I became aware of a significant opportunity that I had to take advantage of. 

Ever since I went to see “Being John Malkovich” earlier this year, I have fallen in love with The Metrograph Cinema in the Lower East Side. So, when I saw that they were having a free Oscars party that was open to anyone who showed up and dressed nicely, I knew that I had to go. I brought my suit to work at the LIC Corner Café and, after my shift ended, I changed in the back storage room and made my way to the theater dressed like I was up for an Academy Award. 

While I was expecting a big turnout and some fun festivities, I wasn’t prepared for how much energy was buzzing around the place. I made sure to get there extra early and quickly befriended a group of three people my age who were also quite excited for the show. We debated about which films would win what categories (we were in unanimous agreement that “Oppenheimer” would win Best Picture) and what films we think should win. When we took our seats in one of the theaters, we watched the Red Carpet show preceding the ceremony and made our comments about who we thought was best dressed as well as continued our predictions for every category, even filling out ballots the theater gave us for the chance to be in the running for rewards. We didn’t get any since we failed to perfectly predict the outcome. The ceremony started and the entire theater developed this strong sense of anticipation for the next three hours. 

There were too many incredible moments to count at the ceremony. Led by Jimmy Kimmel’s excellent work as a hilarious host, this year’s Academy Awards were just marvelous. We cheered when each winner was announced and each of us celebrated in our own way. I myself purchased a bottle of champagne for when Robert Downey Jr. inevitably won his Best Supporting Actor award for his performance as Lewis Strauss in “Oppenheimer” and it tasted terrible. Nevertheless, I drank the whole thing. Jonathan Glazer’s sincere and well-spoken speech upon winning Best International Film for “The Zone of Interest” got plenty of applause as he condemned the genocide in Gaza. Even the appearance of Messi, the dog performer from “Anatomy of a Fall”, got a massive ovation from this New York theater. 

The musical sequences were also infectious to see being projected on a big screen. We were stoic as we admired the Osage Nation’s performance of “Song of My People” from “Killers of the Flower Moon” and everyone was having this euphoric sense of calm when Billie Eillish and Finneas played “What Was I Made For?”, the winner of Best Original Song. While that song from “Barbie” won the award, “I’m Just Ken” won the audience as Ryan Gosling, his legion of Kens and even Slash stirred up the audience in L.A. and in New York. As Gosling sang the final chorus, we all joined in because how can you not? You just felt the Kenergy. 

In terms of surprises, there weren’t too many at this year’s ceremony since I had done a pretty good job predicting the winners. Nevertheless, it was still satisfying to see people like Cillian Murphy, Justine Triet, Hoyte van Hoytema, Christopher Nolan and Emma Thomas win Oscars. I was incredibly happy to see that the visual effects team for “Godzilla Minus One” won despite their film not only being a foreign export from Japan but also having a budget considerably smaller than the American blockbusters that were nominated. It’s a good reminder that sometimes in cinema it’s not how much you have, but what you do with it. 

The only big surprise was when Emma Stone won her second Oscar for her amazing performance in “Poor Things”. With the race for this award being pretty tight, it was still assumed by many that Lily Gladstone would win for “Killers of the Flower Moon”. Either way, both women did an exceptional job in their respective performances. When “Oppenheimer” won the last award of the night, everyone was ecstatic. Not only had “Oppenheimer” and “Barbie” dominated the box office in an age where big franchises rule the multiplexes but this incredible portrait of one of the most fascinating figures of the 20th Century had picked up seven Oscars. 

Oscars night at the Metrograph was truly marvelous. To watch the ceremony being projected onto a silver screen while dressed in a suit and surrounded by similarly dressed movie fans was almost like you were at the actual ceremony, sharing company with the likes of Steven Spielberg, Spike Lee, Martin Scorsese and David Lynch. From the moment I stepped into the theater, I knew that I was going to spend every Oscars ceremony at the Metrograph from now until the end of time. The only way that I would be anywhere else would be if I was actually attending the Academy Awards in person.

When attending an Oscars party, just dress like you’re going to the ceremony itself.

Aside from live music and cinema events, I do take some time for myself. Sometimes I find the time to rest at home but other times I will just take a walk for no other reason than I just felt like it. I worry that the time I spend in theaters or my apartment or any indoor location will make the air in my lungs stale and the light that touches my eyes feel like a pale illusion. The only cure for this feeling is to just take a few hours and get moving through the sidewalks, the parks and the streets. To take the time to be with yourself and to explore the city that keeps unveiling itself to you no matter how many years you’ve added to your residency. 

On this particular journey, I decided to trek from Bed-Stuy to the east side of Prospect Park, all the while making stops at places that I found interesting, mainly from movies because why break character now. I stopped by a few places that I’ve been wanting to check out including the brownstone from Spike Lee’s wonderful semi-autobiographical film “Crooklyn” and the first apartment of Greta Gerwig’s titular character from the film “Frances Ha”. When I was just a few blocks from Prospect Park, I walked by an assuming block of apartment buildings in search of one of the most important plots of land in the history of New York City and America itself. The apartments were right across the street from a playground and a school. What bound them together aside from location was the person that they were all named for: Jackie Roosevelt Robinson. 

All of these buildings were nonexistent 70 years ago. Instead, there was a ballpark called Ebbets Field where the Dodgers would play ball before making their move to Los Angeles. All that remains to commemorate the stomping grounds of “Dem Bums” is a small plaque along the sidewalk next to the apartment building in the shape of a home plate. The plaque rests right where home plate was for Ebbets field and, as I stood next to it, I was standing in the exact same spot where, on April 15, 1947, Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. Maybe it’s because the memorial was so simple but it felt so special to be in that place which was so mundane in 2024 but so controversial in 1947. History was made here and I was now standing in the same place with no one else in sight. I didn’t have to wait in line for a photo or stand next to obnoxious tourists. It was just me, the plate and the knowledge of the bravery that Robinson had shown all those years ago. It’s impossible to not be moved by it all. 

At this exact spot, Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color barrier in 1947 opening the gates for numerous talented players of color in the MLB.

Continuing my long walk, I walked through Prospect Park which was a very calming place to be. Like its sister Central Park (both parks were designed by Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux), the more time you spend in Prospect Park and the deeper you go, you begin to forget you’re in a city of eight million people as the noise dies down and the scenery becomes more lush with plantlife, joggers, dogs and stone pathways that go who knows where. I entered through the northern side and, when I exited from the west side, a half hour had passed and I felt like I was reentering the hustle after some peaceful time away. 

I had gone to the west side of the park for two reasons. First, I went to a pretty important spot for me as a lover of cinema and especially of films shot in New York. I stood outside an apartment on Prospect Park West with the knowledge that, 50 years ago, Al Pacino was screaming “Attica” to cops as he and his partner Sonny, played by John Cazale, held up a bank in the classic film “Dog Day Afternoon”. While the interiors for the bank were shot in a warehouse in another part of Brooklyn, the exteriors for the bank were filmed on this block and I just had to check it out. However, unlike other film locations in the city, there is something to commemorate the film. Not a plaque or a memorial but a restaurant just a block away that is also called “Dog Day Afternoon”. While I have already talked about this restaurant before (I had eaten the restaurant’s Chicago cuisine of Italian Beef sandwiches and Chicago-style hot dogs at the Williamsburg location), I hadn’t been to the original location and was happy to have another Chicago dog. If you can’t get one from the direct source, this is the best place outside of Illinois that I know of to get some solid Midwestern food. After the bite to eat, I went back home. Only a few hours had passed but it felt like much more for reasons that I think are obvious. 

A few days later, my social life brought me past Central Park to a house party. Due to my attendance at quite few local music shows, I have befriended many musicians and one of those groups (a duo called Gut Puppy, composed of Nancy McArthur and Olie Remembers) was preparing to tour Europe. Since going to Europe isn’t cheap, especially if you’re an indie musician, they threw a fundraiser at a friend of a friend’s home which just so happened to be this huge apartment right across the street from the Museum of Natural History. 

Being in this space was surreal. Most parties like this were held in homes, apartments or lofts in Lower Manhattan or Brooklyn with more of a working class, hipster feeling to them. This felt like something out of old money New York, an age of Rockefellers and Vanderbilts and Morgans. The place was big, open and even had a study with bookshelves adorning the walls and all of them being adorned with small busts of men long dead. It was perfect for the show. Along with Gut Puppy and Tallen Gabriel, who was one of the special guests performing, I got to know a couple other good musicians that were performing to help Nancy and Olie in their endeavor. Janna Jamison had these songs full of wit and sincerity and, following the show, we had excellent conversations about whether God is a man, woman or just this genderless entity that supersedes all convention. We also talked about how amazing children are, especially since they’re completely original. 

Another performer was Lily DeTaeye who had this incredible voice that felt crossed between blues and country and sounded decades older than she actually was. While she was tuning a stubborn guitar, she engaged in some banter with me from where she was performing. She said she was from Des Moines, Iowa and I did a supportive holler. When she asked if I was from Iowa, I said no but I had plenty of cousins around those parts. She asked who they were and I said “Ottos.” She didn’t know them but then said, “it would be pretty weird if I did, right?” It’s always nice to encounter another Midwesterner in the most unlikely of places. 

Whether the musicians were playing folk, country, indie or good ol’ fashioned rock and roll, it was a great night full of good music, full laughs and pleasant conversation. Part of the fundraiser not only came from buying a ticket to the party but also from the bar. Since the method of payment was Venmo, I am going to clarify something for anyone who would be able to see my transaction history. I do not have a drinking problem. If you look at my transactions from that night (anywhere from three to seven dollars depending on the shrink), the order is as follows: beer, beer, more beer, seltzer water, wine, seltzer water. Was I drinking a bit? Yes but each one of those drinks bought Nancy and Olie something they needed for their upcoming tour. Plus, I stayed hydrated, was still in a well-functioning state and even took a cab home. I have done the train ride from the Upper West Side to Bed-Stuy and it was something I didn’t feel like doing on a cold March night. 

My friend Tallen Gabriel performs a set in the spacious Upper West Side apartment where Gut Puppy held their fundraiser to travel to Europe.

As stated earlier, I was very excited to hear that the Bob Dylan biopic had started filming and that some of those shooting dates would be set in New York. The only questions were when and where they would be filming. According to a pretty reliable Instagram account I have been following that has detailed the production of the film, there would be a day of shooting on Sunday March 24 from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. with locations all over the city. Since I was working at the LIC Corner Café until 3 p.m., I decided that I would wait until I got more conclusive information about the shoot. If I got a good lead while I was working, I would head there when my shift was over. Around 1 p.m. or so, I saw a photo of an old Pepperidge Farm Bread truck in front of the Chelsea Hotel on 23rd Street between 7th and 8th Avenue and knew exactly where I was going. 

When I arrived, it was still early in the process of rolling back the clock 60 years on this street. Set decorators were setting up old trash cans and were turning a bank into a flower shop while a few Cadillacs and Plymouths were lined up along the sidewalk. Fortunately, the Chelsea Hotel didn’t need that many changes given its status as a historical landmark. After all, this place has housed all-time greats like Allen Ginsberg, Arthur C. Clarke, Mark Twain, Tennessee Williams, Stanley Kubrick, Al Pacino, Joan Baez, Leonard Cohen, Patti Smith, Robbie Robertson and, yes, Bob Dylan. Even the Grateful Dead performed on the roof of the place in 1967 not unlike what The Beatles would famously do in 1969 on top of the Apple Corps. building. The building also has a place in rock infamy because it was in the Chelsea that Sid Vicious fatally stabbed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen although the exact circumstances leading to the stabbing are lost to myth. 

It was obvious by how few people were on set and how much work was left to do that they wouldn’t be filming outside the Chelsea for at least a few more hours. Not wanting to lose my advantage over any potential onlookers, I decided to stick around and went into the Chelsea Café right next to the hotel to wait it out. After seeing the first photos of Timothée Chalamet as Bob Dylan during the first week of production, I decided to emulate his/Dylan’s style so that I could blend into the set. I was wearing blue jeans, brown leather boots, a yellow-and-black checkered flannel shirt, a tan corduroy jacket and a gray flat cap. I looked less like a 21st Century New Yorker and more like a member of the Joad family, in search of a bright tomorrow that never comes. I looked like I would be hocking papers printed by William Randolph Hearst or like I had arrived in New York by boxcar boxcar boxcar instead of in a rented van with my dad. 

As I sat at the bar, I ordered non-alcoholic beer to keep my mind sharp and began reading “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac, pouring over the many travels of its protagonists. After about 15 minutes, the bartender told me “you know, he wrote part of that book in this hotel.” While I’m sure that the bartender found out a ton of information on the Chelsea Hotel on his own accord, I would like to think that working at the hotel and its adjacent businesses would require you to ace a history course about this place. After slinging back a few more non-alcoholic beers and talking to a patron named Tom about film for an hour or so, I ventured into the street, hoping that I would be able to see a full film set in action. 

After waiting patiently, I watched as this block of New York had been rung through the time machine and had 60 years sucked away from it. I don’t think there’s been a production to transform New York like this on this massive scale since the final season of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” wrapped up and I was all for it. One by one, trailers full of equipment came and went with the production design, sound and camera departments all staking out their own corners of the sidewalk opposite the Chelsea. Many members of the crew were sporting merch from productions that they had worked on before with titles like “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”, “Only Murders in the Building” and “BlacKkKlansman” on display. Another slogan that I saw frequently was Woody Guthrie’s trademark “This Machine Kills Fascists.” Some crew members had it pinned to their coats while others had stickers of the phrase plastered on their cameras or monitors. It was then I knew that this film would be very special. 

While I’m sure some of the onlookers were there to see Timothée Chalamet or James Mangold or to just get a glance of the set (all of which I was excited for too), I was primarily there to observe how the set functioned. All of the film sets I had worked on before were either for student films (including my own) or indie films with smaller crews. This was a full-fledged film set with a massive budget and James Mangold at the helm. The entire time, I was giddy as I saw the Sony digital cameras they were working with and I couldn’t believe that no one had kicked me out yet. I figured if I stood off to the side and didn’t bother anybody then I would be okay. I didn’t belong on the set but I didn’t advertise that. I just acted like I was supposed to be there. Eventually, I moved along to join the rest of the onlookers as day turned to night and the cameras eventually were rolling. I was amused when one person said “I can’t believe they’ve taken all this time and they still haven’t shot anything.” Yep. That’s exactly what filmmaking is like sometimes. You prepare and practice and block for hours just to get a handful of shots that might take up a minute or two of the final film. Sometimes they’re cut from the final cut altogether. That’s the life I’ve chosen and it’s not for the weak. 

When the cameras did get rolling, it was amazing to see Chalamet get out of the car and walk to the hotel as Bob Dylan. I remembered my Halloween I spent as Bob Dylan and I think I had a decent understanding of what he was feeling. From what I’ve seen, Chalamet is a great choice to play Dylan. He’s got the look and the physicality down and, if his past performances are any indication, he’s going to knock this performance out of the park. However, I have seen some backlash towards his casting as well as a general resentment towards Chalamet in general. Chalamet is a skinny young actor with Jewish ancestry who came up in New York and has achieved a massive amount of success in his twenties only to receive some vocal and ignorant hate from audiences just because he’s practicing his art. If that doesn’t sound like Bob Dylan then I don’t know what else to tell his critics except to wait for the film to come out. I will then relish the dumbfounded looks on their faces as Chalamet gives a performance that fits nicely alongside the ones that Cate Blanchett, Christian Bale, Heath Ledger and others gave as the many facets of Bob Dylan in “I’m Not There”. 

By the time shooting wrapped for the day, it was 10:30 p.m. and I was freezing despite the layers I was wearing. My legs were stiff, my hands shaking, my teeth chattering and I didn’t give a single damn. If those Production Assistants could stick it out, so could I. After all, if this is the world I want to be a part of, I have to be tough against the elements. It’s in my blood as not only a filmmaker but as a Midwesterner and the son of farmers. To suffer the weather is part of my heritage. I went home grateful not just for the opportunity to see this set but to also see my warm bed.

Dressed as Bob Dylan, Timothée Chalet walks towards the Chelsea Hotel during a take of “A Complete Unknown”.

While I did get to sleep in the next day, I wasn’t planning on resting. Since this year marked the 50th anniversary of films released in 1974, The Paris Theater (which is owned by Netflix and is right across the street from The Plaza Hotel) would be screening several films from that year. One of them was the comedy classic “Blazing Saddles” at 2:30 p.m. and if you know anything about that film, you know that it’s best seen with an audience so that you can all laugh insanely hard at all of Mel Brooks’ classic humor and that’s exactly what we did. It was so great to see the film on the big screen. 

I would also like to take this time to address something that I think needs to be said. To all of the people who say that you could never make “Blazing Saddles” today, STOP IT! You’re wrong. First of all, I hate when people say you could never do something today because it’s self-fulfilling. It also insults “Blazing Saddles” because the statement makes the film out to be this racist film that belongs in the same category as “The Birth of a Nation” or “Song of the South” which is not the case. “Blazing Saddles” is a biting satire of the western genre and has incredible humor centered on racism. Think about it, the characters that are racist are idiots, villains or both. Not to mention, the townsfolk are eventually won over by Bart and join forces with the black characters to defeat the bad guys in one of the most hilarious fourth wall breaks of all time. It’s a smart film that I know most audiences will respect. But if you still don’t think that “Blazing Saddles” could be made today, just ask Mel Brooks. In any interview where he’s asked that question, his go-to response is almost always “I could barely make it then.” 

As I was walking out of the theater following the film’s conclusion, I saw that Francis Ford Coppola’s underrated masterpiece (or so I’m told) “The Conversation” was going to be screening at 9:35 p.m. On top of that, it was going to be a 35MM print. Having never seen the film, I decided to go back home for a few hours and then hightail it back to Midtown to see the film. I’m glad I did because it truly is an excellent film. It definitely deserves to be mentioned alongside Coppola’s other 70s films “The Godfather”, “The Godfather Part II” and “Apocalypse Now”. 

On my way back to the train station to go home after the “Blazing Saddles” screening, I saw two things that made me look twice. The first happened right after I got out of the theater and saw that, right outside The Plaza Hotel, famed medium Theresa Caputo was getting into a car. I definitely knew it was her because who else has big platinum blonde hair like that? Immediately, a massive flood of memories of second-hand watching “Long Island Medium” (my mom would watch that show on Bravo while I was doing something else in the background) came back into my mind. While it was an interesting sight, I wasn’t too invested since I don’t really believe in mediums or psychics. I do believe in life after death, although I do love Madeline Kahn’s quote from “Clue” where, as Mrs. White, she says “life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage,” but I don’t really need anyone to tell me what my loved ones are thinking beyond the grave. In fact, I would hope that they’d be preoccupied with other tasks like learning who really killed JFK. I guess I’ll figure that out for myself when I get to the pearly gates. 

The other thing I saw that left an impact was when I was walking to the train station on 5th Avenue and I passed by Trump Tower. I saw a crowd of Trump supporters awaiting their leader since that was the day his hush money trial was officially set for April 15. I started to feel a bit ill. But this did bring a question to my mind. How is what they’re doing any different from what I did the day before by hanging around the film set for “A Complete Unknown”? I see a clear difference. Those people were waiting to see Trump because they view him as a messiah. The one who will show them all the answers and lead them to a path of enlightenment when all of the commies, liberals, migrants, media and other enemies are brought to their knees for a reckoning. I don’t look to Timothée Chalamet, James Mangold or Bob Dylan for answers because I know they have none. If there’s anything I learned from a messiah story featuring Timothée Chalamet (“Dune: Part Two”), don’t put your faith into a “messiah” who preaches destruction. 

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting at home and resting from the days of making coffee, having adventures and attending film screenings. I’m thinking a lot about the classic folk song “Fare Thee Well (Dink’s Song)” and especially the lyric “he moved his body like a cannon ball.” What does that even mean? To go so fast that when you stop it hurts? If so, that’s how I feel sometimes. As much as I love the hustle, it tires me out. I want to go as fast as possible and absorb everything that I come in contact with. That is an exhausting task. However, it’s part of not just surviving in New York but fully living. You go out there and you wear yourself out by working, having fun and even getting your ass kicked. Then you take a bit of time to rest and start the dance all over again.