As big and populous as NYC is, it can be very lonely town -- especially in the first year of COVID, when we all had to stay at home all the time.
What's it like to be lonely in NYC, particularly now? Here are some stories.
Staying at home all the time in a dynamic town like this is not easy -- but if you have $33 million, this place might not be a bad place to crash.
Over the years I've blogged about one of the most mercurial movie directors of all time -- Michael Cimino -- who had one of the most spectacular rises and falls in all of Hollywood history.
Originally from New York, Cimino directed brilliant TV commercials in the 1960s (the Mad Men era) before going out to Hollywood in the 1970s. He achieved major success in the movies, directing the 1974 Clint Eastwood hit Thunderbolt and Lightfoot followed by The Deer Hunter in 1978 -- a big hit that won Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director for Cimino.
Then it all came crashing down.
His 1980 movie Heaven's Gate was one of the biggest flops ever -- and it triggered the sale of its studio, United Artists, effectively ending the company's existence. Until 1996, Cimino only directed four more movies -- including the great NYC crime thriller The Year of the Dragon in 1985 -- and then nothing at all until his death in 2016.
Cimino's life and career has always fascinating me. How could someone so talented, who had such major success, let it all slip away? How could he make a movie as great as The Deer Hunter followed by one as disastrous as Heaven's Gate? And what happened to him in those last twenty years of his life?
These questions about this unique cinematic figure also fascinated British author Charles Elton whose new book about Cimino is the first real biography of the director. Elton attempts -- and does -- answer some of these questions while leaving others frustratingly (for him and us) open.
One problem with writing about Cimino is that he lied -- a lot -- about himself: he embroidered his birthdate, his education, his family life, even his supposed military service to people. It's not clear if all this dishonesty was pathological or some kind of game he enjoyed playing with the press and public. And in a business of exhibitionists he was mostly reclusive, not courting publicity or attention. The people around him also mostly practiced this omerta, with few speaking publicly about him.
When Cimino died in 2016, the tributes and retrospectives of his life and career were few and far between -- this Oscar winning director seemed mostly forgotten except for a few like yours truly. So this new biography is a much appreciated -- and much needed -- evaluation of the life and career of a singular, controversial and important cinematic icon. I strongly recommend it.
In the first few months of this blog, one of my first interviews was with Zack Hample, probably the most famous baseball fan in America. He has turned baseball fandom into an artform, a skill, a practical raison d'etre.
You know when you watch a game and player hits a homerun? When the ball flies into the bleachers, there's a good chance that Zack will be on the other end, ready to catch it. He has caught literally thousands of balls at stadiums across the country over the decades, and he shows no signs of stopping -- now or ever.
Zack has even written books about being a professional baseball fan -- and sometimes it comes with controversy. But he goes on, keeping the flame, the spirit and love for America's favorite pastime, burning bright,
And now Zack is the subject of a brand new documentary called Zack Hample vs. The World. It's the story of his unique, sui generis career, and how being a fan of baseball, or anything, takes on identity of its own.
If you want to see the documentary, go here to find your preferred streaming site.
Remember that great ad for the Milford Plaza, the now defunct Times Square hotel?
I do -- and I did, in 2007.
If you ever saw the movie Love, Actually, then you may remember the key line: "Love, actually, is all around us."
What's so great about living in NYC, and any city for that matter, is that we are surrounded by treasures -- on every block, on every street, everywhere. And yet these treasures aren't always obvious.
A sentimentalist might argue that a city's greatest treasure is its people -- and that's true. But we have a massive host of secondary treasures -- buildings, stores, theaters, parks, etc. etc. etc. -- you name it. We are replete with treasures.
Here are two examples from this city of treasures, from the specific to the vast:
First, the story of a New Yorker who deals in treasures -- antiques, specifically -- a big, varied, and sometimes celebrity clientele (including Andy Warhol). His treasures are not just the antiques and trickets he sold over the decades, but the experiences and memories he gained from his trade that he is now sharing with the younger generations. A treasure with treasures, you might say.
Second, the architecture of Queens. Yes, that's right -- the entire borough of Queens has a distinct and interesting architectural look that is different from the other four boroughs. In fact, there's a photographer who's dedicated himself to capturing this "unique housing stock." That's not to say that the architecture of Queens is beautiful -- it's not, really -- but it stands out on its own. It has an almost European feeling, much like the borough itself. Queens is the most diverse county in the entire country, a special and unique place -- and this architecture houses these people, these treasures of NYC.
So, much like love, the treasures of NYC are all around us.
The basic definition of "fringe" is the border or outer part of an area or group. It's the tassles around the rug, the frame around the picture, the person or thing at the very edge of the photgraph, the inside of something that's almost outside, someone or something peripheral to the main host, the mainsteam.
It's being a part of something -- but barely.
In New York City, all of us probably feel like we're living on the fringe, whether it's our neighborhood, our communities, or our jobs. To live in NYC is to live on the edge, so of speak.
This is a city of, by, and for the fringe.
But when you read these two stories you realize how some people in this city truly live at the fringes of it, both literally and figuratively.
First, this big story about the residents of Broad Channel, a neighborhood of islands in Jaimaca Bay -- between JFK airport and Howard Beach on one side and the Rockaway Peninsula on the other -- where people live in houses on the water, get around in boats, and are devoted to a quiet, simply life while peering across at the skyline of Manhattan, inhabiting a different world. The people of Broad Channel love and are completely devoted to it but climate change is challenging life there. The water levels are rising along with more frequent and nasty storms, and life in Broad Channel is under threat. How people are adapting to it in this "fringe" of NYC will tell us a lot about how much climate change threatens not just Broad Channel but the city as a whole.
Second, this fascinating profile of a young playwrite who is so devoted to his craft that he is literally staging plays in people's living rooms. In a city teaming with talented and creative people, who crave an audience for their work, this writer -- who is well outside of the mainstream of NYC theater -- is willing to go to the people, hunt for an audience. Instead of waiting for them to come to him, he goes to them. It's arguably a "fringy" way of being a playwrite but it shows you how far some people will go for the love of their art.
So I admire and respect those New Yorkers who live and work on the fringe of the city -- in some ways, this is a fringe blog, a weird outlier of the NYC media world. And I think that's cool!
I just stumbled upon this blog post from April, 2011 and, um, uhhhh, yeah ... it doesn't exactly hold up.
But you should still read it if only because it is a genuine historical curiosity.
It's just a reminder that history is made in a fog, the fog of the present, the so-called "fog of war", and that nothing is predictable, nothing is pre-ordained, and that history with hindsight is truly 20/20.
Bemoaning about gentrification in NYC has become a constant for New Yorkers -- and yours truly is no different. "This city ain't what it used to be" has probably been a refrain since Colonial times. Twenty, thirty years ago it was all about how the city was falling apart and raging with crime. Today it's about how the city is too expensive and how neighborhoods are being taken over by high-rises and chain stores.
Whatever's going on in NYC, its citizens will complain about it.
So that's what makes this article by Village Voice columnist, and early Mr NYC interviewee, Michael Musto so interesting -- he doesn't complain about gentrification, instead he looks at it from an historical perspective. Basically, he posits that the city is always changing, has always been changing, and businesses and buildings are always coming and going -- at first we hate them, then we fall in love with them, then we weep at their demise.
For example, as Michael writes about, the Astor Place K-Mart. When it opened in the 1990s, it was a hated example of encroaching corporatism, a vile chain store in the middle of the hipster community. But over the years it became a very convienent, and beloved, neighborhood staple. Now it's gone -- and Astor Place denizens are bummed.
Michael perfectly captures the feelings we have about the constant churn of NYC -- what was once new becomes old, what was once viewed with suspicion finally get embraced, and when it vanishes we get sad.
Plus ca change, plus ca meme chose.
But one place that has remained strong in NYC for the last 50 years, and shows no signs of vanishing, is Film Forum. The downtown revival movie house is deeply beloved by many New Yorkers, and its survival and resilience in an era of streaming and COVID is all the more impressive. Prior to having kids, I went there all the time with friends and loved ones, and saw old movies by Goddard and Orson Welles, and many others. I even spent my 30th birthday there for a Woody Allen festival -- it's such a great place and, in a midst of constant economic and cultural change in NYC, it's still going strong.
In fact, my most popular blog post ever is about Film Forum -- this over 13-year old post has been viewed over 17,500 times! I can't explain it or understand why but, for me at least and in so many ways, Film Forum is the gift that keeps on giving!
So the culture is always changing in NYC -- and sometimes we experience culture shock -- but some culture remains the same ... which is somewhat shocking in and of itself.
