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Burlesque Corset Biography

While watching “20,000 Days on Earth,” the stunning new documentary following one day in the life of the great Nick Cave, it occurred to me that he might be one of the most enigmatic people on the planet. Watch him on stage with his band the Bad Seeds, or listen to his voice rumble during “20,000 Days,” and try not to be riveted.

British documentarians Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard directed this hip, groundbreaking documentary, and it is essential viewing whether a Cave die-hard or not. It screens at 7 p.m. Oct. 22 in Squeaky Wheel, making for another killer Squeaky screening.

Throughout the film, Cave drives around, chats with Ray Winstone and Kylie Minogue, ruminates on photographs of his family and his days in the band the Birthday Party, and generally looks really, really cool.

The documentary has elements of a biography and concert film, but joins them together for something fresh and altogether thrilling. This is one of the best films of 2014, and a can’t-miss screening.

Visit www.squeaky.org for more info.

In other screening news, if ever there is an ideal month for “Rocky Horror Picture Show” parties, it is October. So it is fitting that the Riviera Theatre (67 Webster St., North Tonawanda) is continuing its “Rocky Horror” tradition at 10 p.m. Oct. 24. (Doors open at 9:30 p.m.) The corset-optional night features the Ladies of Illusion with Jayme Coxx and Eye Candy Burlesque as well as costume contests and the film itself.

“Classic Movie Night” at the North Park, presented by Nichols High School, continues at 7 p.m. Oct. 20 with one you may have heard of: “Casablanca.”

The Buffalo Film Seminars continue at 7 p.m. Oct. 21 in the Amherst Dipson with the legendary “Performance,” featuring an unforgettably sleazy Mick Jagger.

Woody Allen’s latest, “Magic in the Moonlight” was, to put it mildly, minor Woody. But the Emma Stone-Colin Firth comedy still had moments of charm, and if you missed its summer run the Fredonia Opera House will present the film as part of its Cinema Series at 7:30 p.m. Oct. 21. Next up is the critically acclaimed Irish drama “Calvary,” at 7:30 Oct. 25.The North Park was my childhood theater – my “Cinema Paradiso” for those who have seen the wonderful film by Giuseppe Tornatore.

It’s where I saw my very first film at age 5, a D-grade throwaway aptly named “Dynamite” (because of how much of it went off, not because of any metaphorical viewer impact).

The North Park was where my neighborhood friends and I spent our Saturday afternoons. It was where I learned to love movies irrationally; it was where I learned to allow them to let me dream while fully awake.

I have never before seen the theater the way it looks now. But then no one alive, I think, has ever seen it the way it looks now. Even in its vintage neighborhood Shea’s heyday, it didn’t look this beautiful. With the completion of the final phase of its renovation – the stained glass window behind the marquee – it has become the gem of Hertel Avenue the way its owner and operators said it was going to.

This is a wonderful era to be going to movies in Buffalo. All over the region, there have been comforts and joys added to the experience: the renewed visual splendor of the North Park; the plush seating at the Maple Ridge and now at the renovated Eastern Hills Mall and Flix Theaters; our one IMAX Theater on Transit Road ensures that when the big, gorgeous IMAX spectacles are released, they have an optimal place to play.

And I can’t tell you how happy I am that there are people so adamant about continuing the Market Arcade as a movie theater site downtown.

But here’s the funny thing: As much as I love all this for the sake of area moviegoers, none of it is absolutely necessary for me.

I’m a movie person, a bit of a movie maniac, I suppose. Neither the debased word “fan” or the bland word “cinephile” begins to cover it. You have no idea what I’ll put up with to see a movie I want to see.

Many decades ago, I was an avid patron of the old Bailey Theater on Bailey near Genesee. For reasons I have never understood, it was where the old Cinemette Chain (post-Basil, pre-Dipson) used to book all kinds of terrific independent (“Pretty Poison”) and semi-art films you couldn’t see anywhere else – the Poe anthology film, “Spirits of the Dead,” for instance, which had segments directed by Roger Vadim, Louis Malle and Federico Fellini. All were freely adapted Poe stories, and the Fellini segment starring Terence Stamp was particularly exhilarating.

Small problem, though. It was, at the same time, a long-neglected neighborhood house. No one had ever thought of the Bailey as a major venue. So we were watching fascinating movies under dreadful circumstances. I’m talking about a moviehouse that, when the curtains parted, usually revealed rats frolicking in front of the stage.

Did I walk out? And miss a Fellini/Malle movie? Are you kidding? Not on your life. Because there was still a projectionist’s union, the films always looked good no matter what shape the moviehouse was in. It may have been a grind house but what was shown on screen was often first-rate cinema, always shown in first-rate way.

We movie people will put up with almost anything.

• My wife, daughter and I sat on the floor in the back of a moviehouse at the beginning of the promotional screening of “Stripes” – until, that is, the kind manager found some chairs for us and some other viewers similarly afflicted. It remains, to this day, one of the favorite films of my daughter’s childhood.

• At the Toronto Film Festival critics’ screening of Nancy Savoca’s “Household Saints” – a film I like with a lead performance by Lily Taylor I love – I watched the whole thing scrunched on the floor of the left-side aisle in a very old and not-quite-ratty theater. Heaven only knows what fire codes we critics were breaking at the time, but no one told us not to. The movie came first.

• Another time at the Toronto Film Festival, I watched the press showing of “Billy Elliott” from the very center of the front row which meant that for the entire film, I wasn’t really sitting on the seat at all but rather planking with my eyes trained straight up on the utterly ridiculous image in front of me shown at a 90-degree angle.

(I’ve actually seen people who prefer to see movies like that but I personally think they’re daft.)

• My wife and I used to routinely fly to New York to see movies which never made it to Buffalo on their first run. We saw Terrence Malick’s “Badlands” with Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek in a godawful decrepit Greenwich Village moviehouse which never for a second affected my reverence for what I was seeing.

Once the Dipson Chain began showing art and independent films in earnest decades ago, we in Buffalo have seldom been deprived of the more unusual fare the way we routinely missed it in the bad old days. We aren’t just lucky in some of our plush movie exhibition; we’re lucky that our weekly assortment is huge. And in our era, with cable, DVDs and the Internet, nothing passes us by completely.

Once in a while, there is a rarity of a film whose studio refuses to open after poor financial showings elsewhere. The recent film “The Good Lie” starring Reese Witherspoon, actually had a local promotional screening but seems to have been withdrawn from release after bad box office in New York and elsewhere.

Everyone who saw it seems to have thought highly of it. When it hits cable, on-demand and DVD, we will, as always, be able to see for ourselves.

With all this Cinema Paradiso we now take for granted, we movie lovers won’t put up with everything.

I have, on three separate occasions, introduced favorite films and then watched them projected in a process which destroyed their visual beauty completely.

At a local college, I showed Michelangelo Antonioni’s “L’Avventura” and John Ford’s “The Searchers.” At a local art museum, I introduced Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” and discussed it afterward.

After, in each case, praising their visual beauty, the process – DVDs blown up on a large screen – washed out all of their beauty and made them look godawful. They made all of my claims ridiculous.

I took my daughter to see Spielberg’s “A.I.” at an awful mini-mall theater in L.A. which projected it so dreadfully that, to this day, she despises the film (unlike her father who saw it projected splendidly in Buffalo and regards it highly).

We film folks are a wee bit nuts. We know that. When a movie is great and projected that way, we’d probably think so if we saw it in a Russian Gulag. In fact, it needn’t even be good or projected well to be memorable. I first saw a terrible Jeff Chandler B-movie called “Yankee Pasha” projected onto the back of a cabin at summer camp. I still remember how Rhonda Fleming looked.

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