Broken clouds
Broken clouds
66.2 °F
July 13, 2014
River Reporter Facebook pageTRR TwitterRSS Search Login

Letters Home

Sundance

I arrive in Park City with Sean late on Wednesday evening for the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. We accidentally discovered we were on the same flight the day before so we arranged to meet and travel together.

My nerves are buzzing but I have a certain confidence. It’s my third year in a row here and I’m getting to know my way around. This year, travel wise, it’s an easy trip; last year I got caught in Atlanta for six hours because of a snowstorm.  Read more

My trainer owes money all over town (maybe)

I couldn’t say for sure, but I have a hunch that my trainer, Mike, is involved with some shady people. Last week was the second time in the four months I’ve been seeing him that he showed up with a black eye. The first time I asked him what happened, he uncomfortably told me that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I am an idiot,” was the only explanation he offered.

The second time, I didn’t ask.  Read more

Martha at the Callicoon Theater

The first time I remember going to the Callicoon Theater was to see a print of “A River Runs Through It” that the Delaware Valley Arts Alliance (DVAA) was showing. I was probably 12. Since then, I’ve been back a half a dozen times. I’ve always liked it. I had my mind blown by “Being John Malkovich” and snapped a photo of Richard Castellano adjusting the marquee for “Analyze This.” The idea that a movie I am closely involved in would show there is a dream.  Read more

Light the Tree

When I was growing up, my parents and I went out in our yard to cut down our Christmas tree every year. This made sense because I grew up in the middle of the woods. (I have memories of trudging though the snow and it being very, very cold.)

The trees were usually of the Charlie Brown variety; thin but very pretty. We decorated them with ornaments collected over the years and colored lights while we listened to Christmas music. (Usually “The Nutcracker,” but in full disclosure I also really liked the “All-4-One Christmas Special.”)  Read more

Coffee Shop

Our Hero comes upon the roadblock with disappointment but not surprise.

“Just keep going through,” he says to his female companion, ”I’ll meet you on the other side.”

And with that, he rolls out of the car in one quick motion, popping up on his feet behind an SUV.  Read more

The Hickory Farms Escape

Previously, we learned about the origin of the Turkey Bandit. As a young turkey (poult), he escaped a local organic farm after his father was chosen as the “guest of honor” for the farmer’s Thanksgiving table; his father was never seen again. The young Bandit escaped and began his quest to free as many turkeys as he could, one farm at a time.

“I’m in position,” the Turkey Bandit’s radio crackled 10 years later. His partner had the farm under surveillance; he knew where the turkeys were kept and where the Bandit would enter to switch off the alarm.  Read more

The Hickory Farms Escape

Previously, we learned about the origin of the Turkey Bandit. As a young turkey (poult), he escaped a local organic farm after his father was chosen as the “guest of honor” for the farmer’s Thanksgiving table; his father was never seen again. The young Bandit escaped and began his quest to free as many turkeys as he could, one farm at a time.

“I’m in position,” the Turkey Bandit’s radio crackled 10 years later. His partner had the farm under surveillance; he knew where the turkeys were kept and where the Bandit would enter to switch off the alarm.  Read more

My Uncle Rob

My Uncle Rob died of a heart attack last Wednesday night. My phone buzzed early the next morning. It woke me up but I missed it. When I rolled over to check it, I saw an e-mail subject: “condolences.” The phone call had been from my mother.

In the five seconds it took for me to call her back, I braced for bad news. Her voice was crackled when she told me. “Rob died.”

What?

He wasn’t sick. He was 49 and had a heart attack. He didn’t seem unhealthy. It was a total shock to everyone. A hard punch in the gut. Suddenly nothing was important.  Read more

Dressing up

I was Spider Man when I was growing up. My costume was made by my mother, who took a red and blue sweatshirt, cut them up and stitched them together. A few years later, I was Batman, the costume stretchy and elaborate, with a cape, cowl and belt. I was the Rocketeer, with a helmet made out of a Friday the 13th hockey mask, a bit of cardboard and an empty milk jug. I was Sherlock Holmes with an over-sized magnifying glass and two cheap hats stitched on top of each other and spray painted brown.  Read more

Cubed vs perfect; 27 vs 28

Tonight is the Martha Marcy May Marlene premiere as part of the New York Film Festival. Beginning its journey in Livingston Manor and Roscoe, it’s since been to Sundance, Cannes and Toronto. I haven’t seen it since Sundance and never projected on film so I’m excited.

Right now I’m in my editing room on 64th and Madison and I’m wearing a tie, which always makes me feel a little taller and sit up a little straighter. Two good things.  Read more

Syndicate content