That's A.O. Scott gleefully quoting his Timesman predecessor Bosley Crowther in Gerald Peary and Amy Geller's essential documentary about the history of American film criticism, For the Love of Movies.
When the cinetrix first learned that the film was going to be shown as a work in progress as part of that critics institute at MOMI that got everybody's knickers in a twist, I was all sorts of jealous. Mainly because I've been talking with Gerry about Movies since 2005--and at one point was even supposed to be in the film. [My kingdom for a Panasonic DVX 100A!] But also because I'd missed the few screenings it's had so far. Until this past Sunday, that is, when I was at the Independent Film Festival of Boston.
Let me back up a bit. After catching American Teen and Momma's Man with Gerry and his lovely producer/wife, Amy, at the Somerville Theatre on Saturday night, Gerry and I reconvened over breakfast the following morning. As the server whisked away the remains of perhaps the best French toast I'd ever had, Gerry asked if I wanted to see For the Love of Movies. Right now.
Which is how I found myself on Gerry and Amy's sofa for a very exclusive screening of the flick.
It really is an awe-inspiring achievement. And also a lot of fun. The Real Paper gets its props alongside the Phoenix as a critical breeding ground. There's great footage of Manny Farber and Pauline Kael, yes, and quotations from Agee, but Otis Ferguson is also in there. And Frank E. Woods. And, bless him, Roger Ebert, whose audible critical voice I hadn't realized how much I missed, even as I delight in his recent resumption of the written one. Not to mention most of the ink-stained wretches writing today. [But not all--remember, somebody has to review the picture when it's released.] My replacement acquits herself admirably, I'm happy to report. And by staying off the silver screen, I can still hector you guilelessly to throw money at Gerry and Amy so they can finalize the film and get it out there.
