The Time I Met Jimmy Stewart

By Scott Michael

I had just attended an Alfred Hitchcock film festival at the Vista Theater in Hollywood. Within 48 hours I had seen at least three films with Stewart that were completely new to me. I was overwhelmed, just floored by his performances, but mostly by his amazing persona. It was a transcendent experience, and I felt at that time that I had - HAD - to meet him. This feeling was quite acute because I had recently seen him either give or receive a lifetime award with (or from) Cary Grant, so I thought I had better act quickly (Stewart was sturdier than I imagined, and would go on to live another decade, passing away at 89 in 1997).

So, in my youthful naivete, I embarked on the adventure of meeting him, and I was pretty sure I knew how to do it. I hit up one of those people who used to sit around Sunset Boulevard selling maps to the stars' homes. It was disturbingly easy to find his house, and moments later I was parked in front of his two-story Beverly Hills home. Unbelievable.

I realized I'd come unprepared with a picture for him to sign, but in my glove compartment had a novelty postcard with Alfred Hitchcock sporting a cigar in his mouth with a crow sitting at the end of the cigar. Typical of him, right? Perhaps a little strange to hand to Mr. Stewart, but maybe it would make for a conversation piece.

So I marched up his walk and knocked on the front door. Waited. Then the little wooden "security" door opened and a housekeeper peered out at me. I asked if he was there, she said no (she didn't speak much English) but I understood that he would be back soon. I slipped the postcard through the mini door, saying I hoped he could sign it - do you see what I was doing there? I said I'd be back.

Forty minutes later I returned, knocked, and he himself opened the little door this time. I quickly mentioned I was the one who dropped off the postcard, and he said, "Oh, okay, come in" in that familiar drawl. He swung open the door and was already walking toward a small table where my postcard was. I then walked into Jimmy Stewart's house.

I could see straight through the house to the back glass doors and see a lot of green grass beyond. It was one of those older, quite spacious houses in Beverly Hills with ample land. But I didn't notice much more, not with the legend standing in front of me.

Just to recap: I first saw his fairly luminous visage through the small opening when he casually opened the door. I then saw his crooked body casually walk over to the table. He was so matter-of-fact it was disquieting. I was so unprepared for how smooth and casual he was that I mentally kicked myself for not being better prepared with more stimulating conversation.

He looked up from the card to ask my name, signed it and handed it to me. All I could think to ask at that point to prolong the encounter was that old hoary standby, "So what advice would you give writers trying to break into the business?"

"Well, what I always tell actors is just work at your craft. You keep doing that and you'll get in." Or something very close to that.

Then I asked if I could use the restroom. I know, it's horrible, I was young and dumb and I thought it would be part of a good story later... I don't know. Anyway, he was gracious, and pointed to a door in the foyer (which we never left) that I hadn't noticed: a small bathroom was inside with nothing anyone would find value in stealing. Obviously I was not the only one who made this pilgrimage and asked the same rude question. He'd had the bathroom installed for folks like me, enabling him to be the eternal gentlemen without unnecessarily disturbing his life. I think I just washed my hands, came out. He was still there, so I thanked him profusely, we shook hands, and he saw me out.

He was frail, but there was no denying his spirit or his familiar charming manner. This was Jimmy Stewart, and he made me feel that my visit that day was okay by him. I'm glad to have the chance to reminisce about it, because it's great remembering such a special person. And of course, he keeps giving, in his immortal films that will live forever.

This article with written by guest Kid In The Front Row writer SCOTT MICHAEL, from LA.

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You Live Your Movie & I Shall Live Mine - Guest Writer Roxy May

There are writers who are good, writers who are great, and mostly; writers who are okay. And then you get someone like Roxy May, a writer with a bit of magic. Where she got it from, it's hard to know. Did she steal it? Does she deserve it? Does she know she has it? I don't really know the answers I just know that when she puts pen to paper it has the magic in it. I can say that about four people and one of them is Billy Wilder. What I like is that the things she says sound like real words and real feelings - not like somebody trying to come across like a good writer.

Roxy May is a 29 year old writer/director who spent time living and working in L.A and New York; but has now returned home to Dublin, Ireland, where she is writing her first feature screenplay. Keep an eye out for it..

You Live Your Movie & I Shall Live Mine
By Roxy May
Hey folks, so I’m the girl in the front row who steals the kid in the front row’s popcorn. Yes, I’m a girl and he’s a boy and that’s what we do to get attention; even if we are only 10 years old in our imaginations. I take some from him, he takes some from me, back and forth, hands grabbing every last buttery salty piece until the yellow bucket of yummy gold empties out and all we’re left with are just a few measly seeds that never got to pop. Suddenly as the trailers come to an end and the energy in the room grows silent with anticipation for the big presentation, the kid and I look to each other with one thought, “No more popcorn”. The game is officially over. The two kids couldn’t even wait for the movie to begin...
Some would say we were too hungry, some would say we were never taught how to be patient and some would simply say that's just. One minute you have something, the next you don't. But what if I was to opinionate that the popcorn we were stuffing our faces with was somewhat parallel to the chances we all courageously take to fulfill our dreams. That the life changing choices we take every day ultimately create our destiny that in turn ultimately produces and directs our very own movie’s for the world to see. You see, the popcorn always runs out but our imaginations are never ending seeds of magic.
You see this girl in the front row understands something. In her little fun creative carefree soul she knows deep down that every time she pays $15 to see a movie, she’s actually investing in her very own scripted feature film. You might want to read that once more. Basically until you understand the key importance of investment, in all areas in life, you will never understand life itself; Which is why both kids are always searching for the right moments to be taken, the right people to bump into, the right connections to be made and build on and above all the right door to open, so they can one day look back at their childhood lives and think wow, we really made it happen didn’t we. We really made our dreams come true. But what exactly does it take to make our hopes and desires a reality and why do so many people have a say in how we go about it, even if it makes our spirits soar?

The truth is everyone has different lives to live. Everyone has a different path to follow and unique ways to going about their purpose. It's OK if you don't know what your purpose is yet, but what ever you do keep searching for it. I guess what I'm trying to say is: my movie is always going to be different to the Kid In The Front Row's, my leading man (the man i hope to end up with) will be different to his leading woman, my scenes (my every day situations), my dialogue (my chit-chats with friends, conflicts and emotional times), even my ending (the day there's no more life to live) will always be my own.

There are millions of people roaming the earth with millions of thoughts going through their heads. Will I sell this new script I’m writing and working so hard on? Will I get this audition that could change my life forever and will I be happy with everything once I achieve it? But what’s the difference between somebody turning a thought into action and actually getting that step further to somebody throwing it all away because they didn't believe they could do it. It takes courage.

Fear is our only enemy.

Even if you’re not in show business and just wanna get the courage to propose to the woman you've always loved. What’s to say she won’t say yes? She may not like your beer belly or any annoying habits you may have but the way you make her heart skip a beat she may want that feeling inside her till she’s old and grey. Who knows? The only way you will know is if you try. And try never hurt anybody. It may be scary but the outcome is worth it in the end. That's the risks we must take.

Kid In The Front Row points out in his blogs each week how he will always keep trying to be creative, always keep trying to be his best and keep trying to achieve the success he wants even when people still manage not to understand where he’s coming from or what exactly he's trying to do. So what if he wants to be the next Steven Spielberg, if he’s not hurting anybody let him try. Do you think Bill Gates cared what others thought as he sat hours upon hours sitting in his bedroom playing around with his computer? He had a belief system that said over and over again “no matter what…I’m gonna do this,” even if the cool people are out hanging around street corners slagging him off behind my back. Who’s cool now eh? Just like Spielberg, Gates had a vision and just like his own movie executed his direction. He created his own script, edited his own scenes and shot his own footage by choices and decisions for his own good. For himself. So when somebody, a random old friend gets in touch on Facebook and asks you “hey buddy, what you up to these days” simply reply…”Oh you know, just doing my thing…building my dream, working hard to get there…(followed with a big smile).”

Nothing in life needs an explanation if you're on the right path and being a good person. This chick in the front row knows a thing or two about a thing or two and on her own personal quest to create stories worth talking about she thinks as she glances to her friend Kid In The Front Row….”So what if the popcorn's all gone, we’ve just invested 2 hours in our future…and that’s what it takes….” Meaning the seeds that turn into popcorn is the imagination in your mind, and once your imagination pops, the opportunities will always arise. Opportunities mean success and success means happiness. If that’s what you want to believe. Or you can be like me and start being happy now….and in my personal experience happiness means being in the moment, and pursuing what matters to you most and if you do what you love, the rest will surely follow.

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Strange Currencies - By The Mad Hatter

The Mad Hatter is a film geek (his words, not mine) from Toronto, Canada - where I hear they also have movies. He writes a wonderful film blog called The Dark Of The Matinee. I always thought being a film reviewer would be quite a fun thing, but as Mad Hatter explains in his guest post, it's not as straight forward as you might think.

Strange Currencies
By The Mad Hatter
When and how did this happen?

One moment, I’m watching movie after movie and soaking each one in for all it’s worth. The movies I watched furthered my amusement and cultured my opinion – sometimes all at once. But then I had to go and do something to screw that blissful existence up. The days of watching for watching’s sake were gone, and the days of near compulsion had begun. The seismic shift that set this tremor of geekdom off was seemingly innocent: one day, I started a movie blog.

It all started innocently enough. I was bored of blogging of my day-to-day life, and thought I might get more of a creative spark – and likewise the potential for a wider audience – if I focused my writings on a particular passion. Movie watching seemed the natural fit, since beyond listening to music it was the only thing I did excessively (sidebar: what would life have turned into if I’d started a music blog instead?).

So with a clean slate and a new url, I began to chronicle my own cinemania, and for a while everything was just fine. Then after a year or so, I started to notice a slight change in how I watched movies and what I watched. I was no longer just watching for watching’s sake. Any new movie I saw was seen through the eyes of a studious wannabe critic. I’d ponder star ratings mid-film, burn quotes into my memory for soundbiting purposes, and even began (horrors!)…taking notes!

That was bad enough, but it all got worse during the 2008 Toronto International Film Festival. This is the time of year that I’m actually on vacation – yes, I take time away from work to watch movies nonstop. In ’08, this experience went from being nothing but fun, to actually becoming work. It wasn’t enough to watch three or four screenings a day, I started filling in the remaining free hours of the day writing about what I’d just seen.

The shift in my attitude was probably best exemplified the night I returned to my apartment at midnight, knowing full well I had to wake up at six a.m. the next morning. I thought to myself “I could write about one of the movies I’ve seen today, or I can hit the hay now and get a solid six hours sleep”. To paraphrase INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE: I chose….. poorly.

Am I now writing about the movies I watch, or am I watching movies in order to write about them? Have I become completely incapable of turning my analytical attitude off and quite simply be entertained by a movie I’ve never watched before. My nerdy movie obsession seemed bad enough with the fact that the “To See” list is literally never-ending. Soaking all of these titles in with half my brain focused on what I’m going to say about it later damn near takes that obsession and turns it into full on lunacy.

Now indeed, I realize, that the easy answer is to just “stop writing”. Believe me, this fact isn’t lost on me, and was actually underlined by a recent conversation with a pro blogger who reminded me that while I might not get paid to do what I do, I have the luxury of quite simply deciding not to do it. Unfortunately I fear that I can’t go back; that even if I was blocked from every port of access to the Internet, I could never again watch a movie “just for fun”. I’ll always be making mental notes just in case the movie comes up in conversation and someone asks me “what did you think?”

Sometimes, I think back to the first movie I saw. I remember being that wide-eyed five year old kid sitting next to his granddad and watching Pinocchio valiantly try to escape from Monstro the Whale in his tiny boat. I wonder if that kid would even recognize the hit-count junkie of a grown-up he’d turn into.

But before the shame can truly take over, I remind myself of one simple fact. That I’m writing about something I truly love. I’m doing it even though nobody is paying me to do it…I’m a champion of positivity in a very cynical community…and that I’ve met a lot of really great people, and had some truly exciting opportunities because of it.

So indeed, I might be past the point of just being able to “watch a movie”. I might have fed the figurative mogwai after midnight and now there’s no changing him back. But if that change affords that Monstro-fearing kid the opportunity to express his cinematic thoughts on a limitless scale…then indeed the Gizmo I once was is gone for good – I’m Stripe now, and watching movies just got a lot more interesting because of it.

Read more from The Mad Hatter over at The Dark Of The Matinee.

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Movies, Moments & Memories - By Meaghan Couture

Meaghan Couture is a writer, blogger, and film lover. The day I knew she was definitely my kind of person was when I saw the simple, yet very effective tagline on her Wild Celtic blog. All it says is "I am a dreamer." That's my kind of person, and this is my kind of blog post.

Movies, Moments & Memories
By Meaghan Couture
Films, movies, videos, motion pictures ... whatever you happen to call them, the most wonderful thing about films is that we all have had an experience with them. Movies are such a part of the normal human experience now. Whether you are in New York City, Seoul, Sydney, New Delhi, Paris or even a small town that is known to a handful of locals - every one of us has seen a film and chances are one of those films changed you once you had seen it, even in a subtle way. Humming a tune, quoting your favorite line, being named after your mother's favorite actor, that sort of thing.

Looking back on my childhood, I remember being captivated by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies. I watched those with such admiration and awe. The music, the dancing, the tempo, the movement and sway. I grew up with these people from the 1940s, never knowing those actors had made their movies 50 years before me. All I knew was I wanted to be like them, to sing, to dance, to be joyful. Those, to me, were pure films full of real performing. They move me, make me feel like a little girl again sitting on the edge of my mothers bed in pajamas and pig tails just glued to watching their every movement with childlike wonder and admiration.

I spent years in my youth singing, twirling, and dancing. I think we all have one of those films from our past. That one movie that stuck with you, moved you, changed you, shaped you in some way. The horror movie your babysitter let you stay up to watch that kept you awake for two years with your batman flashlight clutched in hand, making your dad check twice under the bed and in the closets for boogey monsters. The first movie you watched with the opposite sex, the sweaty palms and nervous giggles when your mom asks if you want a soda. The first time you see a kiss on screen and fall totally, hopelessly in love with that actor, begging your mom to buy you his poster and doodling little hearts around his name in your notebook.

Movies have a special place in all of our hearts. We hope that one day a moment in our lives will be like a scene from our favorite movie: a big romance, an awesome "I quit" speech to your boss, a time where all of your friends get together at your favorite spot, a crazy weekend in Vegas where a tiger ends up in your bathroom, a day when, perhaps, aliens come to our planet and we blow them away. These films are a reflection of ourselves, of our imaginations and we all dream a little more than we had the day before them.

A more recent memory I’ll share was when I had gone to see "It's Complicated" with my family on Christmas and the whole place was packed, everyone in a jolly and festive mood. Sitting next to my mother, sharing popcorn with my sister, fighting over the Goobers box with my father, all of us about to watch a film we had agreed upon on the car ride over...it was an experience that made me feel like the past wasn't such a faraway place after all. The people around us were enjoying themselves and when the movie started, the energy in the room was so interconnected it felt like we were all in it together. Have you ever had those moments? When the whole room is so focused on enjoying the movie that it's like you all aren't strangers at all, but old friends that hadn't seen each other in a while. Everyone was laughing at the same parts, turning to the people beside them and pointing at the screen, repeating parts to those who had missed something because the whole room was rolling with laughter. These, these are the memories we all share, the parts of us that are most the same. We are all, deep down and underneath, just Kids In The Front Row.

You can read more of Meaghan's writing at her blog, by clicking here.

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Guest Blogger - Mike Lippert

When my last few blog posts get no comments and all of my family stop talking to me, I realize I've hit a bad spell and I desperately need to get in a decent writer to fill my shoes, or a least my blog, for a day. Mike Lippert's blog is like one of those independent movies shot by a nobody for $500. Right now, no-one really knows about it - but the quality is so good that before you know it he'll have a hundred followers and everyone will be talking about his "big ego problem." Below is an article Mike wrote about being a Kid In The Front Row. Enjoy!

A lot of my cinema experiences have been negative: Stupid people, stupid movies, stupid long lines, stupid uncomfortable seats, stupid junk on the stupid sticky floors, etc. Yet, I cherish the experience of the theatre, no matter how advanced home technology gets, more than anything. When you really think about it, the theatre holds a certain inexplicable aura. When you go to the movies you’re going for more than to just see a film on a big screen.

There are the people. I love the people! Let’s get something straight: I hate being in crowded places, especially theatres as was the case when I went to see the Sex and the City movie in a cheap theatre with bad seating that was packed to the point where I found myself sandwiched between my girlfriend and some overweight middle-aged husband who was apparently having the time of his life.

There is a special section of my brain delegated to the memories I’ve accumulated over the years surrounding the complete strangers who I will never forget about out of the simple arbitrariness that they happened to decide to see the same movie at the same time as me. Sure, at the time I despised them more than anyone I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting and sat in the dark, coldly wishing every cruel and unimaginable torture to befall them sooner than later. But now, looking back, I realize that these are the people who have etched certain films into by brain that would have otherwise fallen completely by the wayside.

There were the teenaged boys who needed to whistle as Kate Beckinsale peeled herself out of that leather suit (That would be me, -Kid.) in the Underworld sequel; the wife who thought that her symbolically challenged husband needed a complete play-by-play breakdown of Brokeback Mountain; the silly old Jewish man who must think life is just about the funniest joke anyone has ever told because he certainly laughed his way through absolutely everything in A Serious Man; the rowdy university freshmen who, with horn in hand, honked approvingly when Amy Smart divulged information of her triple orgasm to Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect, and of course, the old woman who, when Adrien Brody decides to take justice against Joaquin Phoenix into his own hands in The Village, loudly gasped “Oh my God! HE KILLED HIM!”

Then there is my favourite audience memory. It was during the packed premiere of A History of Violence, a film that the woman behind me felt was appropriate to take her 13 year old son to, which didn’t seem quite right until Ed Harris ends up getting his guts splattered all over Viggo Mortenson to which the kid exclaimed, “Cool, Spleen!” Right, it made sense now. And then, to the right of me were two jolly middle-aged sisters who thought everything in the movie was hilarious (I guess you just hit a certain age?), and declared, during the absolute best scene, where Mortensen goes to visit his brother, played brilliantly by William Hurt, declared, chuckling, “Aren’t you glad we’re not like that?”

There are many more memories where those came from. I’ve pulled them out and shared them for the simple purpose of trying to show why the cinema is such an important aspect of film. Critics sometimes get so caught up in theory and psychological pondering that they forget that the cinema is also, at its very heart, an experience, which is only half defined by the content that passes before our eyes on the screen. The other half is the conditions under which we see films: the who, what, where, when and why. Although, as a critic myself, I love the first, most movies just aren’t movies in the absence the second.

You can check out Mike's blog at http://mikesyoutalkingtome.blogspot.com/

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Recurring Film Nostalgia

One of the best things about this blog has been finding many other people who are just like me. It turns out, I'm not the only Kid In The Front Row. There are a lot of us, and we're filling up the isles. So it gives me great pleasure to be able to hand over the writing reigns today to a guest author, someone who truly embodies the spirit of being a Kid In The Front Row. He writes about something close to my heart, nostalgia.

'Recurring Film Nostalgia' - by Jack Wormell

Film sneaks into our lives in different ways. I grow fond of a film not just for what it is, but because of how we met. Associations sit so strongly in my head that a movie becomes entwined with certain occasions or periods of my life, and a select number of films maiden voyage into my heart was through television. Seeing them beamed out to me from the TV screen for the first time has left them intrinsically connected with a certain period of my life, and, for some strange reason, has reinforced my love of them.

When I was younger, before I owned any DVDs, and only a few videos stood on my bedroom shelf, there were certain films that seemed to be broadcast regularly, as if, after looking at the calendar, the broadcasters exclaimed, ‘We haven’t shown Jaws in three months! What can we free up on Friday night’s schedule? Pronto! Pronto!’ My nostalgia, whether correct or not, tells me these films were always on the weekend, no earlier than Ten PM and usually on BBC 2. They were films of varying quality, but always immediately gripping, films where you could jump in halfway through and grasp what was happening with no trouble (although perhaps this was because I’d seen it about 3 months earlier on the same channel).

Catching Goodfellas a quarter of the way through, round about the Copacabana tracking shot, or finding the opening credits of Undersiege reaching an end, and with a thrill settle in for guns, cooking and Gary Busey cross dressing (Busey, by the way, featured heavily in my childhood, as the king of the supporting part in dubious 90’s films: Underseige, Point Break, Predator 2). Yes, Undersiege seemed to be on TV almost every weekend when I was 14.

So anyway I present to you my little list of films, which repeatedly came into my life through the medium of television, now something I hardly watch, plagued as it is by mediocrity. When I was younger TV acted as a trusted friend, one who exhibited exciting, reliable films for me time and again. Films that, when I look back on it now, I just had to see. I think I would have grown up a different person without the knowledge that every Friday night I could sit down in the comfort of my own home to be further educated in the violence that one giant shark can do in a weekend, or why you must never say ‘Candyman’ five times in front of a mirror, or why the future of mankind rests upon a lippy teen with a knack for breaking into ATM machines (in my memory Terminator 2: Judgement Day was actually on every week. I will stand by this).

Everyone has their own selection, with films of varying quality, as well as those films on video bought by your parents, but that’s a whole ‘nother recollection entirely! Anyway these are my childhood TV films, in no particular order:

Jaws
Goodfellas
Undersiege
Candyman
Midnight Run (Bit of a cheat, I think I was a little older when this started recurring on TV, but it was, and is, always on.)
Terminator 2: Judgement Day

I was drawn to these films because of their violence, their dramatic dialogue and their phenomenal music (Terminator 2’s mournful industrial clanging is still one of my favourite movie themes). Since those tender years I may have watched subtler and more intriguing films, films which have become my all time favourites no less, but whenever I find one of the above on TV, I still have to sit down and watch it, hypnotised. I may have it on DVD but I still have to watch it, then and there, because it is being broadcast to the public. And even though there are more obscure films I love which are rarely broadcast, it’s still a special moment when Undersiege or Candyman invade my living room. And I’m pretty sure it has to do with me at the age of 14, sitting in the television’s electric glow.

--Jack Wormell is a filmmaker and writer with a degree in Film & TV. You can also read his poetry at http://hitthegroundweird.blogspot.com/

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