A Brief Reflection On My Privilege

I feel like the country I love is bleeding out. Words are poor bandages, but still I am compelled to write and so I offer this brief reflection on privilege in the hopes it may lead others to similarly reflect.

I was stopped by the police—twice—on a walk from the strip mall where I’d eaten lunch back to the hotel where I was staying for a business trip. The stops occurred just a few weeks before Covid-19 shut down most of the country, in a commercial sector filled with upscale strip malls, chain stores, and mid-priced business class hotels like the one where I was staying. I was wearing a gray hoodie, jeans, and gray sneakers. I was on the sidewalk; the walk was maybe a block long, point-to-point. I was happy. I’d found a local falafel place with comfortable seating so I was able to write a few pages while enjoying my food, and when I left I popped my earbuds in and was listening to music on an iPod as old as my children. I may have even been singing as I strolled down the sidewalk.

And then the first policeman stopped me.

He pulled his cruiser over to the shoulder of the road and was smiling when he got out of the car. He was still smiling while he waited patiently for me to take out my earbuds so I could hear him.

“Are you Joe?” he asked.

“No,” I told him, supposing I did look a little suspicious in my hoodie—the little yellow “Life is Good” logo over my heart would have been hard to read from a distance. “I’m not Joe. I’m Dan Waters.”

“Okay,” he said, and then he got back in his cruiser. I watched him drive away. I hadn’t felt afraid or even irritated. If anything, I felt amused that saying “I’m not Joe” was enough to send him on his way. It was like I'd cast "Dispel Policemen" with that short incantation. I was singing again in moments.

I was approaching the stoplight at the intersection of the hotel access road no more than a minute later when I spotted the second cruiser. It was waiting on the other side of the red light and somehow looked expectant. Even before the light turned green, and before the cruiser’s flashers came on, I knew this other vehicle was also going to stop me. 

I proactively removed my earbuds. Sure enough, lights still flashing, the cruiser rolled to an abrupt stop on the shoulder in front of me. This time two policemen got out. One, the driver, had his hand on the holster at his back hip.

I still was not afraid. Unnerved, maybe, but I really didn’t think his gun was going to leave the holster.

“Hey there,” he said, smiling. I thought it was a “we gotcha” kind of smile, smirky.

“Hi,” I replied. No fear. “I’m still not Joe. Your colleague stopped me down the road just a moment ago.”

He looked at his partner, eyes narrowing as he tried to get that cop telepathy going.

“Would it help if I gave you my drivers license?” I said, hoping to cut through the confusion. The offer surprised him, just a little. “I’m staying at the Hampton down this street.”

“It might,” he said, and his hand came off his hip and he dropped the smirk, exchanging it for a pleasant smile.. “I’m really sorry for the hassle.”

“No worries.” I replied, because truly, there weren’t any.

I gave him my license; he glanced at it and gave it back. He apologized a second time and before driving away he turned to his partner and said, “The guy we’re looking for looks exactly like him.”

I thought it was a funny thing to say, because the cop and I looked similar. We were both white and bald; he was a few years younger than me and a bit bigger—swole, my son might say--but it would be hard for a casual witness to differentiate us in a line-up.

I walked the short distance back to the hotel thinking primarily about two questions, questions I’d be turning over in my head the rest of the day and on into night as I waited for the sleep that so often eludes me when I’m on the road for business. The questions still haunt me.

How would I have felt in and after that situation if I had been a person of color?

Would that situation had even gone the same way if I had been a person of color?

Despite being confronted by the police twice in five minutes, I did not have a single moment of doubt where I thought that maybe—just maybe—things wouldn’t go my way. I was abundantly certain the confusion would be cleared up with a few words and an ID card. I never thought the police would find my earbuds, my hoodie, or my general demeanor disrespectful. I never thought speaking to them before being asked a question would be a strike against me, and I never once thought that the brief exchange around a mistaken identity or false accusation would end with me in handcuffs or with a knee on my neck.

Not everyone in our country has the freedom—the privilege—to be that confident and fearless in interactions with the police.

Innocence is not enough, by the way. The fact that I wasn’t “Joe” alone wasn’t enough to ensure I could speak freely and act under the assumption there could be no possible negative repercussions for my actions. Even though I apparently was a dead ringer for this miscreant “Joe”, in the first instance all I had to do was boldly declare I was not Joe and the encounter was over.

Does it work the same way for everyone?

 Is a simple declaration of innocence, without any tangible proof, all that is needed to peaceably end confrontations with the police?

Not for everyone, it seems.

Over the next few hours as I replayed the event in my mind, I realized that I’d stepped toward the second cruiser before the police had fully exited their vehicle. Could that have been construed as a hostile approach? Were my hands visible? Did my smile appear friendly, or insolent? Did I reach for my back pocket—where I had my wallet, not a gun—too quickly?

It doesn't take a narrative genius to imagine several different outcomes for these two interactions. No creativity is required to paint a tragic ending when society has provided plenty of them in similar situations. Change mine and Joe's ethnicity and perhaps the story gets told in exactly the same manner--but probably not.

Is it fair to say, that of the many benefits I enjoy as a middle-aged white man, one of them is the benefit of doubt? I have fifty years on the planet enjoying that benefit, that confidence, that lack of fear. My childhood in the seventies, my adolescence and young adulthood in the eighties, my life here in 2020—are likely to have been very, very different than another person’s. Society and culture spent those decades teaching me not to be afraid; society and culture taught many other people over the same time period that they have every reason to be afraid.

Privilege results in many things, but one of the most prevalent—and most polarizing for people who don’t take the time to try to understand it—is the ability to move and interact in society without fear. The realization that many, many people we live, love, work, and interact with every day do not enjoy that very basic freedom should be both sobering and actually terrifying to all of us. The reality that the freedoms we consider to be inalienable rights are routinely denied to people simply because of who they are flies in the face of the things we think we believe in and stand for.

Until we live in a world where people can live without that fear, we live in a broken world.

In the end, I was grateful I was stopped by twice by the police that day. It led me to think deeply about a disease our society must cure. It led me to have more empathy for those who don’t have the freedoms I enjoy; empathy is a path to understanding and understanding is a path to action.

But then again, it is my privilege to be grateful. All I had to do was say my name.

QE Results for May and the Three Energies of Creative Production Theory

Feet firmly planted on Beale St.

In January I wrote a blog post entitled Queer Eye, My Daughter, and I where I related some of the experience and pleasure I had binge-watching the two season of the show with my daughter over the holiday break, and in doing so basically laid out a self-improvement (or self assessment, at least) plan for the year.  The plan involves taking an honest inventory of where am in life with regards to five categories, as I see them, as exemplified by the men on the Netflix show Queer Eye.  And so, an honest assessment on my performance for May in the five QE categories:

KARAMO: "Culture, Confidence, Put yourself out there". 4.5 stars. I wrote 200 pages, with more of a day to day, week to week balance than I had with April's photo finish. I did not write enough fiction, I am afraid, and blaming it on my two lengthy business trips would be a little disingenuous, although I have this "Three Energies" theory when it comes to creative production. In short, I believe there are three different types of energy you need to have to be able to successfully perform your chosen art:

Activation Energy: This is the energy required to generate a new idea and actually get started on bringing it to life--writing the first page, getting the first notes recorded, making some marks on the canvass. I have this in spades; I've got dozens of story ideas supported by outlines, notes, and the first twenty or so manuscript pages. They are stacked up in my mind and my hard drive like airplanes awaiting clearance for takeoff

Sustaining Energy: This is the energy required to just put your head down and keep working toward the finish line even when every page is more like slogging through a dismal swamp than it is like skipping through a lush garden as it often is during the activation energy phase. This is the form of creative energy, for myself, anyway, that is most likely to be drained away like your cellphone's charge when you are out of network and surfing the web by the vagaries of life. The bad day at work, the routine broken, the unpleasant news, the glance at a finished project so much better than your WIP--all can suck that spirit right out of you. My sustaining energy does take a hit when the non-writing work and travel amp up, but I've been at the game long enough to figure out ways to compensate for this.

Finishing Energy: This is the energy--some would say the moral fortitude--to actually finish off a project and pronounce it done (which isn't at all the same thing as being fully satisfied with the project; frankly that never happens). Getting through those last twenty pages, writing your last line, completing the draft, etc. I've got this one in spades, too--and I'm thankful for that, because I actually think this is the energy many creative people struggle with the most.

One of my trips brought me to Memphis, and I was overjoyed to have a night to myself which almost never happens for work trips. I made the most of it with a sunny stroll down Beale Street and visited a couple of my favorite haunts there.

Despite my dearth of sustaining energy writing-wise, I did get out quite a bit this month--I joined my friend and HWA Mentor award-winning JG Faherty in a beautiful part of New York on a torrentially rainy night for the Rockland Teen Library Association's book launch party for Scrawl, a student anthology that Greg and I helped edit. I got to give a speech and I gave every one of the students that had a story in Scrawl a free copy of Generation Dead. It was a fun night.

Two smooth guys. JG Faherty and I

Kim and I went to an opera at the Garde Arts Centre--Verdi's Don Carlo, our first. I loved the music; we were seated in the first row so I could see every draw of the bow on the strings. 

I also started going out to the movies weekly with my father...more on that in the upcoming What I Watched: May blog. I've eaten more popcorn in the past month than I have in the previous year, easily. And I like popcorn.

This came out. Translation: The Curse. There's no curses in the movie or the book...talk about a red herring! 

TAN: "Make an effort with your personal appearance". A raise to 3. I've been going out more and have gotten better at dressing accordingly; the concert t-shirts are now relegated mostly for lounge-around-the-house wear. I'm putting all of my new slimmer fitting clothes to actual use.

Me making an effort with my personal appearance at Tater Red's. I'm well aware I'm cenobite-esque, thank you very much

BOBBY: "Create and maintain a physical environment that promotes productivity, creativity and inner harmony". I'm keeping it at 3.5, mostly because of more work on the yard and a quick tidying of my home office. I also got the pool opened up--and the pool is huge in promoting "productivity, creativity, and inner harmony" but I'm having a little trouble getting the chemistry of it just right, which has never happened before.

ANTONI: "Make nutrition healthy and enjoyable, cook for others". 2.5 still. Kim and I hosted the family for a Memorial Day cookout and I made potato salad and manned the grill--rather pedestrian, just burgers and dogs but I will say they were cooked perfectly and according to taste. Stuck to my diet but wasn't irrationally rigid about it either.

JONATHAN: "Take care of yourself physically" Staying at a 4.  I ran 118.6 miles, making May my fifth consecutive +100 month, a feat I'm certain I've never done before in my life. In five months, I've eclipsed my totals for the entire years of 2018, 2016, 2015, 2013, and 2012. I started keeping track of such things in 2011, the year I set my personal best, and now only that and 2017 (I beat 2014 on the first day of June!) stand in my way for a new yearly record. 

Some lifting, but not as consistent as I'd like to be. But the results are starting to show...

 17.5 my high but with only one bump in one category. Progress is progress, though.

Reading/watching/listening posts will soon follow.

I combine reading and listening, and writing, in my novel Aural History, which you can find HERE, along with my other ghost/zombie/human/punk/metal/sporto novels below...

What I Watched, Heard, and Read in February

Nothing to do with today's post, but I love this portrait. It hangs in a restaurant in Boston.

A short but productive month writing, running, and reading. February has never been my favorite month and once again there was a family health scare (these tend to happen most often when I am away) but am thankful to report the scare is now in the rearview.

Flying High Again

WHAT I WATCHED:

1. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Season 1--This was something Kim heard about and suggested we watch; I was maybe fifteen minutes into the first episode before I fell completely in love with the show and nearly everything about it. I never realized how weak my film literacy was until I was able to visit the set of I Still See You, how much I just never noticed before when it came to the actual mechanics and construction of film and since that wonderful experience have found myself noticing all sorts of things I wouldn't have noticed prior--fabrics and textures of the wardrobe jump out at me watching Maisel as much as the wonderful soundtrack.

One of the things I appreciate the most about this show is that it manages to be dramatic and socially conscious while at the same time being very positive and winsome--it somehow combines the plucky/can-do/let's-put-on-a-show spirit of fifties sit-coms with adult humor, themes, and insight. Most of my favorite television is very, very dark and/or laden with death--The Wire, The Sopranos, Black Sails--even Mad Men contains a great deal of darkness, so to fall so utterly in love with the world of Maisel was a wonderful surprise, especially in February, the darkest month of all.

2. Straight-Jacket--Another nice February surprise was being able to catch this nutty old Joan Crawford movie--hosted by Svengoolie!--when I was on the road. I grew up on Channel 56's Creature Double Features and have written extensively of my MST3K love and have often been curious to see other movies "curated" by horror hosts, and eating a large pile of Chinese food while watching Svengoolie's goofy skits and trivia lessons was a delight I should treat myself to more often. Sadly, MeTV is not available in my neck of the woods.

With the exception of a few quarters of basketball watched with my son, that is the sum total of my television watching for the month...no wonder my film literacy is so weak!

WHAT I HEARD:
1. Encore--The Specials. Spectacular. Their first album with Terry Hall in something like twenty years; don't wait so long for the next!

Special Indeed

2. Feral Roots--Rival Sons
3. Good Old Broadway--Coleman Hawkins. My first Coleman Hawkins record. Love at first listen.
4. Complete Performances with the Lighthouse All-stars--Chet Baker & Miles Davis
5. SYR 8--Sonic Youth
6. Goodbye 20th Century SYR 4--Sonic Youth
7. Olive's Horn SYR 7--Kim Gordon
8. The Evening Redness in the West--Nim Vind. Great horrorpunk-ish artist
Items 3-8 were through eMusic and now I have all of the SYR releases because I'm a completist.
9-14. 6 Elvis Presley double discs from the Time-Life series. These are great, but the collection I acquired was missing the volume I really wanted, which was the Gospel one. Oh well.

WHAT I READ:
1. The End of the End of the Earth--Jonathan Franzen. Essays, many about birds. Includes his very short and very controversial "Rules for Writing" essay.
2. Once Upon a Time--Larkin, ed. Essentially a fantasy art book, not much reading involved.
3. Time & Overdrive--Vol 3 of Cadillacs and Dinosaurs by Mark Schultz. You'll notice a lot of art and comics in my Feb. reading. I read things like this all year, but just this very moment I might amp it up in February as a primitive form of self-care to endure that hated month.
4. The Authority--Warren Ellis. I'm a fan of Mr. Ellis's, and have bought many a book based on his newsletter recommendations. One will show up in March. I couldn't help but notice that The Authority's spaceship looks quite like my very own Oumuamua.
5. Amberstar--Bruce Jones. What a weird and fun book featuring mostly purple-palette-ed photos altered by arcane pre-Photoshop techniques to tell a science fictional story. Mr. Jones wrote many of my favorite comics, including the Twisted Tales and Alien Worlds series' from Pacific Comics and then Eclipse Comics. Those titles definitely put a few warps in my record.
6. The Braindead Megaphone--Charles Saunders
7. The Song is You--Megan Abbott A great noir, I didn't realize it until after I finished the book that she is set to be a Guest of Honor at NECon this year.

I judge books by covers. Both cover and content are great.

8. Doo Wop--"Cousin Brucie" Morrow
9. Futuropolis-- Robert Sheckley
10. I Am Providence--Nick Mamatas
11.Safe in Place--Brendan Halpin. A YA, one of the best novels I've read this year, full of heart, humor, and insight. I've enjoyed everything I've read of Mr. Halpin's work but this is one of my favorites. Brendan also offer services as a writing coach; check him and his bibliography out HERE
12. Brown's Requiem--James Ellroy. My Ellroy odyssey begins! I may save commentary until I'm complete with his oeuvre, at which point I'll write a separate post. Probably.
13. Clandestine--James Ellroy
14. World's End--Neil Gaiman and a host of brilliant artists. I'd read this one before--and owned it-- before buying this second copy at the Book Barn. Despite my vast library of books, comics, and music, I never accidently bought stuff I already owned until a few years ago. I am nearly half a century though, and should probably be kind to myself. And this one had a different cover! Anyway, I'm glad I reread it because it is great and beautiful and has one of my favorite ever panels from a lifetime of reading comics. And now I'm inspired to go back and reread the whole run of Sandman.
15. Hotels of North America--Rick Moody. I liked Moody and I liked this book a great deal, reading it as I did poolside at a Hampton Inn. A nice companion book to the Cheap Hotels book from LAST MONTH
16.Mister Miracle--Tom King and Mitch Gerads. Loved it. It inspired me to go read all of the Kirby Fourth World stuff, which shockingly I have only read a few random pieces of, and I'll probably revisit that run of Justice League where Scott Free was part of the roster.

17. Demons By Daylight--Ramsey Campbell. I've met Mr. Campbell a couple times although I doubt he would remember me (although he was in the audience during a panel I was on at Stokercon last year; somewhat intimidating to have one of the greats of horror literature present when I'm running my mouth!). He's written some of my favorite horror novels, among them The Grin of the Dark, The Hungry Moon, and Ancient Images. Many of the covers of his books were painted by my friend Jill Bauman, who I look forward to playing cards with every year. I find it fascinating that creators I admired when I was younger and before I began writing professionally have ended up friends and acquaintances. When they prove to be as wonderful in person as they do in print or on the canvas, as Jill certainly does, it is nothing short of remarkable. As is her work, which you can see HERE

And finally, if my content moves you in any way and you wish to support the creation of more of it (or if you just admire my exquisite taste), please check out my books HERE. The pretty covers of most are below:

One of these is not like the others

February QE Results

In January I wrote a blog post entitled Queer Eye, My Daughter, and I where I related some of the experience and pleasure I had binge-watching the two season of the show with my daughter over the holiday break, and in doing so basically laid out a self-improvement (or self assessment, at least) plan for the year.  The plan involves taking an honest inventory of where am in life with regards to five categories, as I see them, as exemplified by the men on the Netflix show Queer Eye.  And so, an honest assessment on my performance for February in the five QE categories:

KARAMO: "Culture, Confidence, Put yourself out there". I remain at 4.5 stars. I wrote 229.5 pages, which actually eclipses the January pb of 241.5 in terms of per day average pay count (3 fewer days). I worked on the new novel, a Generation Dead novella, and I completed a short story, an event which happens maybe once a year. I wrote three blog posts, read sixteen books, and saw two concerts (Corrosion of Conformity and Cheap Trick). Next month Kim and I have front row center seats for a bucket list concert in Boston, her gift to celebrate me turning a half a century old!

I had a solo trip to Tampa that was half business and half personal business, but managed to fit in some writing, running, and even a few laps in the hotel pool. Midway through the trip I had wonderful paella meal at the Columbia restaurant in Ybor City while watching the flamenco show, and prior to the show took a walk around where I took the photo above of the local theater.

Also, Break My Heart 1,000 Times/I Still See You came out in Poland:

Not my hand...I found this on Instagram

Readers in Poland are very supportive...I've been amazed at the beautifully designed photos I've seen on Instagram. Dziękuję!

TAN: "Make an effort with your personal appearance". Up from 1.5 to 2 as I have acquired more new clothes and am actually wearing them outside the house--Kim and I have had dinner out several times and I'm generally making more of an effort than I have in say the past decade.

BOBBY: "Create and maintain a physical environment that promotes productivity, creativity and inner harmony". A three, no real change here, although Kim and I have been working in front of the fireplace more which is a nice change of pace.

ANTONI: "Make nutrition healthy and enjoyable, cook for others". Maybe slipped from a 2.5 to a 2 as I haven't done any meal prep for Kim other than salads which I eat three nights a week. I'm still adhering to Austerity (see Secrets of Weight Loss, Revealed) but have relaxed enough to consume several pizzas and go out with Kim on several occasions without my usually level of intolerance and anti-fun diligence. 

JONATHAN: "Take care of yourself physically" I'll give myself a half point here to elevate to 3.5 as I ran 122 miles and have achieved my "target weight", although I now feel I could drop a few more without harm, especially as I've relaxed a few of the dietary restrictions that make life a little less fun.

This puts me at a 15 overall for February, gaining a half star in two categories while backsliding in another. I'm not sure who among the QE men would signify as the avatar for "take care of yourself mentally" (Karamo? Jonathan?) but for the record I'd have to say I'm pleased with my results for February, which traditionally is a month where I'm at war with the blue fog and not always winning.

Next up, I'll blog about the sixteen books I read, the film I watched, and the new music I listened to. 

Speaking of books and music, if you enjoy my blog and/or my young adult novels, you might enjoy my exclusive kindle novel Aural History. A mere $4.99, or free if you are a kindleunlimited patron.

Check Aural History out HERE

Does the Song Really Remain the Same?

How Mario Bava Saved Me

One of my favorite moments in Rome promoting Sei Ancora Qui, the Italian language version of I Still See You, the stellar film based on my novel Break My Heart 1,000 Times ,was a trip to Radio Rai to give an interview.  Gabriel, the publicist chaperoning Kim and I, let me know the interview would be live during our cab ride. This was only the second-most terrifying part, believe it or not. The most terrifying part was that the show I’d be appearing on was focused on films and not books like I’d foolishly assumed. The Italian edition of Sei Ancora Qui was coming out later that week and, because I am often an idiot, I assumed that people would be more interested in talking to me about that than the movie.

It has been a long, long time since I have been a movie expert. My days of being an assistant manager/usher at a local megaplex are in the distant past, and while I can speak definitively about the movies that came out during those years, I haven’t kept up. Writing, day job, writing, parenting, writing, reading--there hasn’t been nearly as much time for watching films as I would like. I’ve read far more books than I’ve seen movies over the past decade—hundreds of books; maybe three or four dozen movies. I try and keep up with del Toro and the Coen brothers and a handful of others, but that’s about it. My passive screen time has mostly been reserved for binge watching multi-season television shows and NBA basketball. So when Gabriel said that the interviewers would likely want me to talk about movies, I panicked. I felt like my brain dumped its hard drive; I couldn’t even recall any of my favorite ghost movies, which they would almost surely ask me about (The original Poltergeist, the original The Haunting based on Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, The Sixth Sense, and the remake of Thirteen Ghosts spring to mind. I hadn’t even seen my own movie yet!

Gabriel led us through the security checkpoint, where we admired the friendly guard’s origami handiwork, a collection of butterflies and bugs lining his desk, and into the studio. I was in a cold sweat, literally, when I sat down, and the interviewers started their show. It was amazing watching and listening to them work; they clearly enjoyed their jobs and were bantering back and forth in that delightful lyrical and physical cadence that characterizes Italian conversation. I looked through the glass into the mixing room where my wife and Gabriel sat with six or seven staff members, most of whom were engrossed in watching a soccer game on a screen set on the opposite wall. I smiled, weakly. No one wants to bomb in front of the woman they love, especially me.

Then the questions started coming—in English, thank God—and the main radio host had the unenviable task of translating my halting replies into Italian and make me sound interesting. My intro was encouraging, and they seemed to like my anecdote about wanting to write a “large-canvas ghost story”, because most ghosts stories are “small in the sense of being confined to a specific location, a haunted house or a church. I warmed up in talking about my trip to Canada and watching Scott Speer, I Still See You’s brilliant and tall director, encourage spectacular performances from Bella, Richard, Shaun, Dermot and many others—in scenes that scriptwriter Jason Fuchs had drawn directly from scenes I had written. Then they asked me about my favorite films and film makers.

“Mario Bava,” I blurted, truthfully.

It turned out to be a great answer.  The radio hosts both sighed and nodded appreciatively, and Kim would tell me later that the tech staff in the booth stopped watching the game for a moment and actually cheered my answer.

I really wasn’t pandering, although picking a native son like Bava (Black Sabbath, Black Sunday, Lisa and the Devil, Bay of Blood, Shock, to drop a few of the English titles) certainly seems like an obsequious move in hindsight. I think he came to mind though because when my mental hard drive crashed, taking with it most of my handy responses, stories, and anecdotes, images remained. Images that I’d seen in the trailers and bonus feature footage I’d seen of I Still See You.

Here’s the thing: the film looks gorgeous. It is wonderfully shot, framed—and this is especially important when trying to trace down the synapse that led me to say “Bava”—stunningly well lit. Every scene in Ronnie’s (oops, my Ronnie is Roni in the movie) house, the scenes in the water, the scenes in the No-Go Zone, the icy expanses—the cinematography is beautiful throughout and I feel especially fortunate that Simon Dennis brought his genius to the film. I so wanted to ask him during the filming if Bava had influenced him—the black and purples in the scenes with Brian, the amber tone in the last scene of Ronnie’s house—but I never got the chance. I recently watched Bava’s Black Sabbath for the fortieth time recently and I’d be shocked if Mr. Dennis hadn’t studied and loved Bava intensely, like I had.

Bava was a painter before he was a director, and that sensibility carries over to the best of his films, which look painted with light. One of the benefits in seeing Sei Ancora Qui before seeing I Still See You, and not speaking Italian, is that it allowed me to focus fully on the visuals and the look of the film. It’s gorgeous, in my only slightly biased opinion, composed with a similar painterly eye but enhanced by modern technique and technology. In retrospect it is quite clear why I made the synaptic connection I did between the I Still See You footage I’d seen and Bava’s work.

We wrapped soon after my sound booth ovation. On the way out, the mostly attentive guard had made a paper butterfly for Kim, one of the greatest treasures from a trip filled with them. We thanked him, thanked Gabriel, thanked everyone, and said our goodbyes. We had a movie to watch.