Boyhood and Life Itself - Two of the Finest Films I Have Ever Seen

Richard Linklater has made a version of all of the movies I could ever hope to make, and more. He’s made the joyous backstage theatre drama (Me & Orson Welles), the best romance in recent movie history (the Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight trilogy), the story of the last day of school at an Austin high school (Dazed and Confused) and a dark comedy that explores the peculiarities of East Texas and its local flavor (Bernie).

With Boyhood, his twelve-years-in-the-making portrait of Mason (Ellar Coltrane) from age six to eighteen, Linklater has made his best movie, a masterful epic that brings to mind Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life (2011), both in its ambition and in its Texas setting. Roger Ebert wrote in his review of The Tree of Life that he didn’t “know when a film has connected more immediately with [his] own personal experience.” I suspect many people will feel this way about Boyhood, too.

Oh, how this film will resonate for those who grew up in Texas. Linklater gets everything right – the recitation of the Texas pledge in public schools, the sound of white winged doves calling out over suburban neighborhoods, the Bible given to you at a certain age with your name engraved on the cover. 

Near the end of the film, as she’s sending her son off to college, Mason’s mother, Olivia (Patricia Arquette), says, “I just thought there’d be more, you know?” And that’s when the power of the movie hit me.

Though the movie has been lauded for its incredible twelve-year shoot, the greatest achievement of Boyhood is that you don’t really notice the characters (and actors) aging. The movie is so entertaining, the transitions so seamless, and the characters such a genuine pleasure to hang out with, that you lose sight of the fact that they’re growing up and maturing right before your eyes. By not focusing on overly dramatic or seminal moments that other filmmakers might make the focus of their coming-of-age films, Linklater gives the whole movie such a hang-out feeling that the trick is not thinking about the time. And I thought there’d be more. But that’s how it happens. It’s all over too soon, and perhaps the power of the movie doesn’t even fully register until you realize it’s all over.

In the first half of this film, Mason is pulled in many different directions, with adults offering out various ways through life. It’s not until about midway through Boyhood that Mason really emerges and develops a voice. That’s not an arc we see much in cinema, particularly with so much emphasis placed on active characters. But how are we formed? Aren’t we all slowly molded by the world around us? Much of our childhood is spent not thinking about the future and not making active decisions. We’re certainly not thinking about what we’re doing as part of some larger life structure.

Many of the major character changes take place off-screen. The movie is not unlike Kenneth Lonergan’s Margaret (2011) in this respect, where characters are allowed to leave a scene and have lives outside the movie. I think of Mason’s father, Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke) growing from freewheeling dad in one section of the movie to a slightly more conservative and mature man entering his second marriage a bit later. We see how this change must have taken place. To witness the change itself is not necessary.

The actors in Boyhood are extraordinary, and you’d be hard-pressed to argue that any other film performances this year are really comparable to what Arquette, Coltrane, Hawke and Lorelei Linklater achieve in this movie. In particular, I’d like to see Hawke at the very least get nominated for an Academy Award for his performance – he’s an absolutely fantastic actor, extraordinary in everything from Linklater’s films to Sidney Lumet’s Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007) to Training Day (2001).

As Linklater says in an interview, “At some point, you’re no longer growing up, you’re aging. But no one can pinpoint that moment exactly.” I can’t wait to see Boyhood again to see if I can pinpoint exactly where it happens, but I have a feeling I’ll be taken away on Mason’s journey once again and forget about that question altogether, enjoying my time with wonderfully real people.

I’ve had my own boyhood with Mr. Linklater (see the picture to the left). I don’t mean to say he has any idea who I am, but by growing up in Austin and being interested in film, I (along with many others) feel a certain kinship with him.

He is our resident auteur, and more. He’s the friendly patron of the arts, the man sitting behind me at Hyde Park Theatre’s production of Killer Joe. He's the guy enthusiastically talking with cinephiles in between the Summer Classic Film Series screenings of Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull (1980) and Goodfellas (1990) at the Paramount Theatre. He came to Waterloo Video to sign the newly released Criterion DVD of Slacker back in 2004, and I have my copy proudly placed atop my DVD collection. “To Jack – all the best. Rick Linklater.”

I’ve never been more proud to come from the city of Linklater. The Texas auteurs – Linklater, Terrence Malick, Wes Anderson, David Gordon Green – are responsible for many of the best films of the last few years. Boyhood is certainly the best picture of this year, and I can only hope that by this time next year, we’ll be referring to Linklater as an Academy Award-winning director.

Special Note: In one of the scenes filmed at Austin High School, you can see the 2009 UIL One-Act Play State Champions banner hanging over the Preas Theater (for our production of Over the River and Through the Woods, in which I was one of the six actors). We didn’t just win State – we made it into a Linklater movie! Watch the Boyhood featurette that shows some of the filming at Austin High. And here's a great interview with Linklater - on Boyhood, Bernie and Texas.

How Richard Linklater made me a better film critic

Slacker Geography, 25 Years Later

Life Itself (Steve James)

I often walk out of movies and struggle to articulate the effect they have on me. Roger Ebert was a master at this. He always had a perfect turn of phrase to capture exactly what a certain movie felt like. Who else could write something like, “I was almost hugging myself while I watched it” of Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous (2000)? I think of that quote every time I watch Almost Famous, because that’s exactly how the movie makes you feel.

On the opening night of Steve James’s new documentary about Ebert, Life Itself, I was moved to tears, just as I had been the first time I saw the movie in January. Walking out of Austin’s Violet Crown Cinema and seeing the peaceful Austin skyline before me, a banner poster of Boyhood proudly draped over the cinema, I was touched by a tinge of sadness.

Partially because this journey isn’t yet over. Many of us left have yet to enjoy our heyday. Some of us never get there. Roger Ebert did, and the morning after he passes away in Life Itself, Steve James shows us a Chicago infused with sunlight and purpose. Forty years ago, there was Ebert, part of the very fabric of that city, informing the lives of its people. And now, he’s gone.

This is to say I don’t know how to articulate exactly how I felt looking out at the city skyline after this movie ended. Certainly, I was overcome with sadness, knowing that Ebert is gone and not coming back. But I was also filled with joy, knowing that a city – in his case, Chicago – could contain a man such as this, who stood for the right things and whose writing guided so many people to see pictures they may never have seen otherwise.

The film’s score plays an integral role in this magnificent feeling. The music by Joshua Abrams hits a feeling somewhere between triumphant and mournful. There’s something truly grand about it – as soon as you hear it, it just feels right. It’s the score a life like this deserves. With the aid of that score, those final shots of trains running through Chicago the morning after Ebert’s death give the movie an almost transcendental power. This movie embodies such a specific feeling and attitude toward a man, his life and the city in which he lived.

Watching Life Itself, I understood, in a way, what people mean when they say death is a beautiful thing. The movie’s celebration of life and reconciliation with death took me aback. When I saw the film for the first time in January, I was focused on how well the movie illustrates Mr. Ebert’s impact on cinema and his relationships with many of the filmmakers he championed. But I may have missed the fearless quality of the movie to look at something deeper, going into the unknown and ultimately coming to peace with Ebert’s passing. I felt Ebert’s bravery more this time.

I’ve not seen a movie that treats death with such forthrightness since Sean Penn’s Into the Wild (2007), at least in the sense that death is accepted in both films and shown for what it is.

During one section of the movie, Ebert’s friend Bill Nack recites the last page of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby by heart, and perhaps that’s as good a way as any to reconcile this thing that happens to all of us in the end. Life Itself is one of the best films I’ve seen, not simply because it captures what made Ebert so important and influential to the film community, but because it’s one of the few movies that’s left me with a profound impression about what it means to face death.

So, reflecting after the movie, I thought about this ether space – the space between the old world, where Ebert was alive and influenced how I thought of cinema, and this new world, where recent movies seem almost out-of-balance without his writing and guiding them to their proper alignment. As Ebert goes, so does a whole way of living, a whole time and place for me.  He is more than a part of my childhood. He is sort of the leader, along with Martin Scorsese, of everything I hold sacred and thrilling in movies.

And here was this new city in front of me, full of life and those who may never know what kind of man was here for a time and informed the way we feel and react.

"And it took me years to understand that that’s who I am. And Roger knew that.” - Martin Scorsese

The best films of 2014, at the half-way point.

1. Boyhood (Richard Linklater)
2. Life Itself (Steve James)
3. The Immigrant (James Gray)
4. The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson)
5. Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer)
6. Noah (Darren Aronofsky)
7. Ida (Pawel Pawlikowski)
8. Joe (David Gordon Green)
9. Night Moves (Kelly Reichardt)
10. Jersey Boys (Clint Eastwood)

With Begin Again, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Edge of Tomorrow, Snowpiercer, Enemy, Muppets Most Wanted and The Lego Movie very close behind. And, of course, Afternoon of a Faun: Tanaquil Le Clercq, which I'm not including due to my closeness to the movie (but it is truly one of the finest films).

Farewell, Austin High School, Farewell.

Today, I visited Austin High School for the last time before I leave on Sunday for New York University. Last night, my wonderful girlfriend Anne and I spent the evening together, having a farewell dinner and then watching Martin Scorsese's Casino (1995), a film which wasn't quite as romantic as I had remembered it. This morning, Anne caught an early flight to begin her junior year at George Washington University, and to keep from being too extraordinarily glum, I decided to pay a visit to my high school.

While there, I was lucky enough to catch up with some of my fine theatre friends, including past production costars Lily Primeaux, Angel Bottera, Brian Schwartz and even fellow 2009 graduate Kaylee Nelson, who is a freshman at St. Edwards University. She is one of the most talented musical theatre performers I have ever seen, and I have no doubt she is currently wowing the theatre department at St. Edwards. I have to admit, it was quite odd looking at the theatre call board and reading the final cast list for the first Red Dragon Players production of the year; after twenty-three career plays in four years with The Red Dragon Players, it's very hard for me to detach myself from the department.

I also said goodbye to many of the most influential teachers I've ever had - including Theatre Directors Billy Dragoo and Tommy Grubbs and English teachers Carol Knox and Brian Hudson. I visited the Performing Arts Center and the Hall of Honor, where I took the above photo of the five honored Maroon Society senior inductees from last year's Dedication Day (that's me on the lower left). I didn't have a chance to speak to many other influential teachers, including Newspaper instructor George Edwards and Chemistry teacher Leyla Cohlmia, but I suspect I'll be visiting again in the wintertime (in fact, I hope to catch a performance from The Red Dragon Players at that time).

I also spoke to Austin High Principal Lucio Calzada, a very kind man who I lovingly mocked in the video below, which aired last year on K-AHS, the student-run Austin High news station.

Fridays show from K-AHS on Vimeo.

Since then, I have been preparing endlessly for the big move to New York City. Choosing which books and movies to bring has proved a more daunting task than I had originally imagined - how can I bring The Godfather (1972, Francis Ford Coppola) and Raging Bull (1980, Martin Scorsese) without bringing Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Ford Coppola) and Taxi Driver (1976, Martin Scorsese)? I've ended up with a rather large collection, comprised of my twenty favorite movies, a few titles I haven't seen yet and some light-hearted fare, such as various seasons of The Simpsons, to keep my spirits high during the cold winter.

From the NYU Essential Screening list, I have most recently viewed the silent movie classic Sunrise (1927, F.W. Murnau) and the moving Tokyo Story (1953, Yasujiro Ozu), both extraordinary films. I also recently re-watched the incredible The Searchers (1956, John Ford), the great western which ultimately served as the inspiration for Taxi Driver. Ford's film is quite simply one of the finest movies ever made (aside from a sometimes meandering romantic subplot) and features John Wayne's best performance.

Tomorrow is my last day in the great city of Austin, Texas. I hope it's a good one. I intend to see director Ang Lee's latest film, Taking Woodstock, at some point during the day - but otherwise I will be preparing for Sunday.

An Ode To The Red Dragon Players

I will certainly miss being a part of The Red Dragon Players of Austin High School. True, I graduated from Austin High nearly three months ago, but I managed to keep my spirits high by playing Horton the Elephant in the Austin Independent School District's All-City Musical Seussical: The Musical last month, which was directed by Austin High Theatre Director Billy Dragoo, and starred four other Austin High students who I knew very well. So, in a sense, I extended my run as a Red Dragon Player by a few months. But it's all over now.

Here is a rumination I wrote during my junior year of high school on my wonderful years with the best theatre department in the state of Texas.

My fascination with The Red Dragon Players began when I discovered the world outside of my second period Theatre I classroom. Certainly, I was aware that the Preas Theater was more than just a classroom; our ladder-wielding student teacher, Mark Pickell, had built a tremendous set for his production of Marat/Sade right under our feet. But even after I attended productions, such as Marat/Sade and A Christmas Carol, I still didn’t really associate the Preas classroom with the intense acting arena drenched in lighted gels that provided nighttime entertainment for the Austin High masses (back then, I wasn’t even aware of the backstage area – I was shocked to find out that something existed behind that door).

I felt like a bit of an intruder when I stumbled into a small role in Bye, Bye Birdie in the spring of 2006, because I was surrounded by a passionate group of musically-gifted students who were very unfamiliar faces (in fact, it took some genuine convincing before I believed that senior Michael Harrison was, in fact, a high school student). The experience was extraordinary; some people don’t look back on Birdie as the finest of The Red Dragon Players’ musicals, but I remember being proud to be involved in what I considered to be, at the time, a ‘masterpiece.’

Fast-forward to after-school rehearsals for The Red Dragon Revue: Get Wired – I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, mimicking Johnny Cash in a rendition of Folsom Prison Blues, but I sure enjoyed watching and learning from people whose work inspired me in past productions. Who is that fascinating individual donning black sunglasses and exuding coolness? Why, that’s Daniel Howard. And how about that great actor reciting a profanity-laden Shel Silverstein poem as if he were a politician? Keenan Zarling, ladies and gentleman.

Beyond anything, I was astounded to be surrounded with such intelligent people. I can’t think of another organization on campus that has such brilliant and well-read students as this particular department. Later that year during the annual Camp Red Dragon, I would just listen to Howard, Zarling and Zach Gamble riff with each other in musings and conversations which often led nowhere and yet were clever all the same.

My initiation into the theatre department, then, was based on a need to follow in the footsteps of the ‘old-timers,’ as well as grounding myself in an organization that was redeeming and accepting of one’s character flaws.

The next year brought a startling revelation to me, though – I really loved to act. Many people claim that there is an extremely tough balance between keeping up with academics and participating in a play, but I have to admit that working with Mr. Dragoo most likely improved my grades, if anything. Dragoo is easily the most intelligent and fascinating teacher at Austin High, and spending a two-hour rehearsal taking direction from him remains just as beneficial as any two-hour SAT preparatory class (his vocabulary alone demands attention, hence the often-quoted Dragoo-isms). The first production in which he directed me was The Lovesong of J. Robert Oppenheimer; I still consider the play as one of my best performances, not only because of my strong desire to play an intense character, but also because Oppenheimer marked the first time I had worked with someone with the Dragoo's presence.

Since that production, I have been delighted to find that Dragoo is not only a master acting coach, but also a terrific friend, a patriarchal presence whose opinion is as highly regarded as that of one’s own father. During Urinetown: The Musical, I was lucky enough to find Dragoo and myself playing bumbling cohorts Officers Lockstock and Barrel, and I was privy to a sort of kinship one expects with fellow students, but not necessarily with instructors. I am not alone in saying that he and Mrs. Dragoo are among the most respected and esteemed adults at Austin High, and certainly their friendship – and direction – is valued endlessly.

Our 2007 UIL One-Act Play, Round and Round the Garden, was as gratifying a theatrical experience as I can remember. The thrill of performing something meaningful and hilarious was exhilarating, but even more exciting were the relationships formed between the six actors and three crewmembers in the process. The joy of Round and Round the Garden didn’t end with the play’s final bow at the Bass Concert Hall on May 5th, 2007; instead, it still remains amongst the veterans at Austin High and those now residing elsewhere. The same joy spilled over into this year’s UIL One-Act Play, …And the Rain Came to Mayfield, and the overlapping companies represent a new generation of Red Dragon Players.

In a sense, those freshman, such as myself, who were once intimidated by the prospect of living up to the old-timers have, essentially, picked up where the old-timers left off. Our lives are now consumed by theater in the best sense possible, and, while I may not boast membership in four different theater classes as my friend Kaylee Nelson does (count ‘em – Theatre III/IV, Musical Theatre, Theater Production, Tech Theatre), I am proud to be a member of the most versatile and brilliant organization on campus.

More than anything, The Red Dragon Players provided me with a sense of identity, ironic given that acting is defined as losing oneself inside a character. Perhaps that explains the terrific performances at Austin High – the department constructs an identity for the actor, so that the actor might spend the rest of his/her career at AHS breaking that identity onstage. What results are honest, naturalistic performances that resemble not so much an act as they do a reality – in a sense, our act is our offstage persona, and we are only truly ourselves when we are onstage.

This, of course, will lead all of us to confusing and unbalanced lifestyles for eternity, but I guess you have to be a little eccentric to be involved with The Red Dragon Players in the first place. I feel gratified to be a part of a group where the theatrical history is as important as the current productions, and where one day, we can all be the legendary old-timers.

I Line Up The Dishes And Smash Them - Slowly - With The Steak Tenderizer

"When I die, don't tell nobody. Just bury me in the backyard and tell everybody I left you."

There are only two weeks remaining before I leave Austin and depart for New York University. My seemingly mundane journeys around town are starting to carry unusual weight and deathly significance; if I have dinner at a particular restaurant, it feels like The Last Supper, as if I must pay my gratitude to the restaurant owner for having served such magnificent food to me for nineteen years.

The first major casualty of college came last Friday, when my longtime friend Bolton Eckert headed north to Texas Christian University in Fort Worth. The second major casualty will be this Tuesday, when the effervescent and jovial Cora Walters will be departing for Reed College in Portland, Oregon (to be specific, Cora is first going to Santa Fe, where she lived for some time before coming to Austin, and then going camping with friends, before arriving in Portland just in time for orientation).

In my August 12th post, I wrote the following of Cora: "She is an incredibly smart and well-read young woman who has no problem with being completely pretentious in taste, which is probably why we get along so well." Indeed, she is one of the smartest and most savvy people to ever walk the halls of Austin High School - who else would write their Visual Media class final on director Lars Von Trier, or dress up as one of the Heathers from Heathers (1988, Michael Lehmann) for Halloween?

Along with being one of my best friends in high school, Cora and I also starred in countless productions together as Red Dragon Players at Austin High. I can recall first meeting her during our 2006 production of High School Musical, where she served as Stage Manager while I played the school disc jockey, Jack Scott - a character who, sadly, never made it to the High School Musical movies. One day, I will write Jack Scott his own spin-off musical, and he will have his revenge.

Cora and I really bonded, though, during Austin High's 2007 UIL One-Act Play, Round and Round the Garden, written by Alan Ayckbourn. Round and Round the Garden is the third play in The Norman Conquests series, which recently won Best Revival of a Play at the 2009 Tony Awards. I played Norman, the man-child assistant librarian whose one aim is to make the women in his life happy, including his wife, Ruth (Anne Goode), her sister Annie (Charlotte Mann) and her sister-in-law, Sarah (Cora Walters).

Round and Round the Garden became the first Austin High UIL One-Act Play to advance to the State finals since 1989.

The next year, Cora and I starred in Dearly Departed, written by David Bottrell and Jessie Jones. In this Southern comedy revolving around the funeral of a family's patriarch, she played Raynelle Turpin, the recent widow, and I played her firstborn son, Ray-Bud, a hard-drinking tightwad with a grudge against his dopey brother, Junior (Lucas Loredo).

In 2008, our UIL One-Act Play, Jason Milligan's father-son drama ...And the Rain Came to Mayfield, advanced to the State finals for the second year in a row, a back-to-back feat not accomplished since 1957 and 1958, respectively.

Last year, Cora and I starred in George Bernard Shaw's masterfully intelligent British comedy, Major Barbara. I played Andrew Undershaft, the brilliant weapons and artillery manufacturer, and she played my estranged wife, Lady Britomart. Our fiery scenes together resembled something akin to a verbal tirade between Daniel Plainview from There Will Be Blood (2007, Paul Thomas Anderson) and any Judi Dench character.

Our final stage appearance together was as man and wife, again, in the 2009 UIL One-Act Play Over the River and Through the Woods, written by Joe DiPietro, which took Austin High to the State finals for the third year in a row, and ultimately won the State Championship last May. Cora and I both received State All-Star Cast awards for our performances as Aida and Frank Gianelli, the loving grandparents of the protagonist.

I firmly believe that the best friends I will ever have are those with whom I have shared the stage - there is no greater bond than the one between two people who rely on each other in front of a large audience. Most importantly, she and I were part of something very thrilling together in high school, and the memories will not fade. She will be departing on Tuesday, but make no mistake - when I see her again in a few months, it will be the same as it ever was.

Tonight, Cora and I went to South Austin Trailer Park & Eatery, which serves delicious Torchy's Tacos, a wide variety of shaved ice, and the rare opportunity to have your own personal fire and make delicious smores. Most notably, though, the outside venue offered a free screening of Grosse Point Blank (1997, George Armitage), a very funny movie starring John Cusack and Minnie Driver, as part of their week-long John Cusack Festival - which, oddly enough, does not include Say Anything... (1989, Cameron Crowe), the quintessential Cusack film. It was an excellent venue altogether and a great way to spend a final night with Cora before she leaves. Reed College is very lucky to have her intelligence, brilliant wit and exuberance for the next four years.

On the subject of film, I most recently saw Hayao Miyazaki's latest animated adventure, Ponyo, which, while not nearly as good as his Oscar-winning Spirited Away (2002), was very impressive. Until tomorrow, to the left is the latest image from Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island, which opens on October 2nd and, unsurprisingly, is the film I have been waiting for all year. I suspect the great director and his very talented star, Leonardo DiCaprio, are making yet another masterpiece.

Nostalgia and Goodbye Bolton Eckert

Tonight, I attended the fourth dance party in the past year held by my good friend Cora Walters, who will be a freshman at Reed College in Portland, Oregon in the fall. Cora and I starred in countless productions together as Red Dragon Players at Austin High, from Alan Ayckbourn's Round and Round the Garden (as Norman and Sarah) to George Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara (as Undershaft and Lady Britomart). She is an incredibly smart and well-read young woman who has no problem with being completely pretentious in taste, which is probably why we get along so well.

Among the many attendees were my beautiful girlfriend Anne Goode, countless theater buddies from Austin High, and four of my best male friends - Bolton Eckert, Matt Potter, Lucas Loredo and Austin Kingsbery.

On the midnight car ride home in my 1988 Ford Bronco II, Bolton and I had an unusually nostalgic conversation about our friendship, which began in fourth grade at Casis Elementary School, and the many tragedies and celebrations that have come our way in recent years - the death of my father in 2002, which exposed nearly one-hundred fifth-graders to their first real funeral service; the suicide of two classmates, Blake Theriot and Ian McCormick (both hangings), in 2007; a tragic car wreck killing classmates Audrey Ducote, a lovely human being and one of my past girlfriends, and Lauren Hoffman in 2008; and the suicide of our friend's father earlier this year.

Why were we discussing such depressing matters on the way back to his house after a cheery 1980s dance party? I believe the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia was weighing heavily on Bolton; he leaves in only one day for his first year at Texas Christian University. He is on the brink of leaving his life as he knows it behind, something I can avoid facing for another two weeks - something that, I should note, I do not want to face. But his sadness was a forewarning of what I will be experiencing very soon.

I believe there is something very powerful and profound about experiencing great joy and great pain with a certain person over a number of years - a bond develops separate from any preexisting friendship - and that is exactly the sort of bond Bolton and I share. From the aforementioned tragedies to the much brighter times - the advance screening for The Departed (2006), a film that would soon become our cinematic obsession; our stay at Harvard University, where we shot and edited short films at a summer camp with The New York Film Academy; trips to everywhere from New York to Colorado - he is a friend with whom I have shared many important experiences.

Before he leaves for TCU, we are holding a screening tomorrow at his house of A Family of Sharks, a forty-five minute film I directed my freshman year of high school starring, among others, Bolton and Matt. The film, which is actually quite impressive considering my age and the production equipment available at the time, is a testament to these better days. Also in attendance at the low-key screening will be my girlfriend Anne, who has never seen the movie, and Matt and his girlfriend, Rebekah Yurco. I am looking forward to watching the movie, but I am not looking forward to Bolton's departure.

I will be posting many more goodbyes in the coming days, as my best friends depart for their first, second, or third year in college. I will also write essays on my wonderful experiences with The Red Dragon Players and at Austin High School in general. Why? Nostalgia. Even someone as critical of cheap sentimentality in Hollywood movies as I am must admit to sometimes getting very emotional about the good ole days.

Incidentally, Bolton's relative is the legendary, Oscar-winning playwright and screenwriter Horton Foote, who sadly passed away at the age of 93 this past March. Because of the efforts of Bolton and his family, I had the chance to meet Mr. Foote on several occasions, including at his 90th birthday party in New York City in 2006, and talk to him in great detail about my ambitions in acting, writing, and directing. Mr. Foote, who won Oscars for writing To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) and Tender Mercies (1983) and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama for The Young Man From Atlanta (1995), kindly wrote me a letter of recommendation last October that I was able to send to colleges. His incredible influence and support of young artists will be the topic of a later post.

Essential Film List/ Further Introductions

In preparation for NYU, I am currently plowing my way through Selections from the Faculty of Film & Television's Essential Screening and Reading List, which has titles both obscure and legendary.

Today's film is Killer of Sheep (1974) by Charles Burnett. I will write my thoughts on the film in a later post.

Among the titles I've seen for the first time in the past month include The Conformist (1971, Bernardo Bertolucci), The Last Waltz (1978, Martin Scorsese), Mulholland Drive (2001, David Lynch), Seven Samurai (1954, Akira Kurosawa), A Woman Under the Influence (1974, John Cassavetes), and The Piano (1993, Jane Campion). All films were extraordinary - I particularly enjoyed the works from Scorsese and Cassavetes.

For more information on me, I've provided a link to an article written by Joanne Foote for The Oak Hill Gazette, a local Austin newspaper. The article is part of a series the newspaper did in May on Outstanding Graduates of the Class of 2009.

The Obligatory Introduction

As much as I'd like to attribute the creation of my new blog to the recent release of the unsurprisingly mediocre film Julie & Julia, I must instead attribute it's genesis to my upcoming move to New York City from Austin, Texas (although imagine my own version of the blog in question from Julie and Julia - perhaps Jack and Jackie, in which I would attempt to watch all of Jackie Chan's movies in 365 days).

The basics? My name is Jack Kyser (real name: John Michael Kyser, Jr.), I am nineteen years old (as of two days ago), and I graduated in June from Stephen F. Austin High School in Austin, Texas. While in high school, I served as President of The International Thespian Society, and as a drama student starred in twenty-three productions over my four years with Austin High's Red Dragon Players; wrote film columns as the Entertainment Editor of the school newspaper, The Maroon; and served as Secretary of our National Honor Society chapter.

None of the above really matters, though, in college - it's a fresh beginning, so to speak, and I want to write home to Austin friends and family as I head off to New York University's Tisch School of the Arts on August 30th, 2009.

Expect this blog to feature the heralding of fine movies and theatre, semi-interesting experiences in a big city, and a display of unremarkable insights about the theatre and film worlds. I'll upload pictures and provide links to more substantial blogs (specifically, Roger Ebert's blog).

For fun, here is a picture of The Red Dragon Players winning the State Championship this past May for our UIL One-Act Play performance of "Over the River and Through the Woods," directed by AHS Theatre Directors Billy Dragoo and Tommy Grubbs. I am the male just above the center of the trophy. Also, here is a link to the Austin American-Statesman story written about our historic victory.