When The Pen Bleeds
By Anthony Douglas Gere
As many know, I love movies. No, let me re-phrase that, I’m a movie fanatic! You know
what I’m talking about, the adult that’s still a kid on Saturday that goes from theater to
theater looking at every movie that’s showing during that time. The kid inside that buys
the combo meal, and the one-more-kernal-and-im-about-to-have-a-heart-attack-
refillable-bucket-of-overly-salted-buttered-popcorn type of guy. Now what I’m not, is the
stand outside all dam night in the freezing cold on opening night type of movie nut. That
aint me! But to me, the sheer artistry and imagination on how one directs a thought,
and transfers it to the silver screen from thousands of frames and takes, is truly
remarkable. Its like a puzzle I guess, because you must be firmly focused on telling a
story in sequences when you’re not filming it that way, while opening up your
imagination to a visualization, many cant comprehend until its done and ready for
public viewing. Then there’s the meaning or small pieces within the pieces that make
the whole, that gives the viewing public a foundation. Something to subliminally refer
to, while anticipating the next course of action. Then there’s the characters and the
way they relay the vision of someone else’s dream onto the camera, and their
discipline to be free. While still be enslaved by the script. It’s a phenomenal thing to
me, how movies are made, and more so, how they can touch people in many
different ways. And no, call me what you want and like, but I don’t go back and pay
the booth for each show I go into. Why, I don’t know, maybe it s the devil in me,
and my way of rebelling against the system. Don’t judge or budge, just accept and
dispose and realize, I’m human.
Now last night, I was watching a pretty cool movie, and was honestly using the
sound as background noise, while I was on the phone conducting a little bit of
business. The movie, “ The Hurricane”, is about a boxer that spent a long time in
prison for a murder he didn’t commit. Denzel Washington offered up an Award
Nominating performance, and played the main character. It’s a pretty moving
story if you’re into the never give up on hope syndrome. But what got me was how
things work out in mysterious ways. How he finally got his day in court from
strangers that just so happen to be on another course, doin’ tha right thang. The
saviors were from Canada I think, and basically was going into the inner cities
f New York, and offering assistance to promising youths, that more than likely
would fall through the cracks of societies sidewalk. They somehow met this kid
from Harlem, took him into their home up north, and gave him the opportunities
he would have never discovered on his own. During a critical scene, the groups
of them were at a flea market one weekend.
They passed a vendor that was selling book by the pound, and this protégé of the
upper crust, stopped for some reason, to watch the books tumble from this bin a
man had just so happened to be emptying at the exact time. The elder mentors of
him noticed his hesitation, and asked him if he was okay, and wanted or liked to
read. He was frozen in time, and basically didn’t know what he liked or enjoyed at
that time. He was just frozen in time, because he felt something, unexplainable. As
his eyes wondered throughout the pile of books, he kept focusing on one particular
section.
By Anthony Douglas Gere
As many know, I love movies. No, let me re-phrase that, I’m a movie fanatic! You know
what I’m talking about, the adult that’s still a kid on Saturday that goes from theater to
theater looking at every movie that’s showing during that time. The kid inside that buys
the combo meal, and the one-more-kernal-and-im-about-to-have-a-heart-attack-
refillable-bucket-of-overly-salted-buttered-popcorn type of guy. Now what I’m not, is the
stand outside all dam night in the freezing cold on opening night type of movie nut. That
aint me! But to me, the sheer artistry and imagination on how one directs a thought,
and transfers it to the silver screen from thousands of frames and takes, is truly
remarkable. Its like a puzzle I guess, because you must be firmly focused on telling a
story in sequences when you’re not filming it that way, while opening up your
imagination to a visualization, many cant comprehend until its done and ready for
public viewing. Then there’s the meaning or small pieces within the pieces that make
the whole, that gives the viewing public a foundation. Something to subliminally refer
to, while anticipating the next course of action. Then there’s the characters and the
way they relay the vision of someone else’s dream onto the camera, and their
discipline to be free. While still be enslaved by the script. It’s a phenomenal thing to
me, how movies are made, and more so, how they can touch people in many
different ways. And no, call me what you want and like, but I don’t go back and pay
the booth for each show I go into. Why, I don’t know, maybe it s the devil in me,
and my way of rebelling against the system. Don’t judge or budge, just accept and
dispose and realize, I’m human.
Now last night, I was watching a pretty cool movie, and was honestly using the
sound as background noise, while I was on the phone conducting a little bit of
business. The movie, “ The Hurricane”, is about a boxer that spent a long time in
prison for a murder he didn’t commit. Denzel Washington offered up an Award
Nominating performance, and played the main character. It’s a pretty moving
story if you’re into the never give up on hope syndrome. But what got me was how
things work out in mysterious ways. How he finally got his day in court from
strangers that just so happen to be on another course, doin’ tha right thang. The
saviors were from Canada I think, and basically was going into the inner cities
f New York, and offering assistance to promising youths, that more than likely
would fall through the cracks of societies sidewalk. They somehow met this kid
from Harlem, took him into their home up north, and gave him the opportunities
he would have never discovered on his own. During a critical scene, the groups
of them were at a flea market one weekend.
They passed a vendor that was selling book by the pound, and this protégé of the
upper crust, stopped for some reason, to watch the books tumble from this bin a
man had just so happened to be emptying at the exact time. The elder mentors of
him noticed his hesitation, and asked him if he was okay, and wanted or liked to
read. He was frozen in time, and basically didn’t know what he liked or enjoyed at
that time. He was just frozen in time, because he felt something, unexplainable. As
his eyes wondered throughout the pile of books, he kept focusing on one particular
section.