Art is invisible, it has no face, it has no heart beat and there can be continuation from its origin until we begin to open our eyes.
In a tiny corner of Davidson, North Carolina sits a privately owned movie theater daring to make a difference within the oversaturated waves of Corporate American Hollywood. No stadium seating, no twelve dollar buckets of popped corn, no rush to push heavily promoted assumed blockbusters during the official start of Oscar season.
Our Town Cinema’s is designed to invite… It’s quiet and hidden away from the constant commands to keep up or drop off the map. Places to be versus wants and needs are no longer important therefore watching a movie has returned to becoming a pleasure.
Even in today’s standards Independent no longer means free from massive amounts of expectation—film festivals are big business which makes me wonder what the alternative is when the alternative is being promoted just as much as a silver screened Depp, Dicaprio, Hanks or Bullock?
Art is invisible…it has no face. Even with a name like Robert Whitlow movie goers are caught between two rocks in an open sea of blindness due to a lack of support from local writers, actors, newspapers and other media outlets who can’t see how promoting a film shot in town is going to get them better ratings. Therefore, the art becomes a heart beat with no continuation.
The Trial stars Matthew Modine, Robert Forester and Charlotte’s very own Cherokee Cillie who once sat with me late, late, late one New Years Eve staring into the vibrant colors my paint brushes brought to life deeply inspired by a willingness to shut off criticism and bring sight to the surface of expression. She fell madly in love with a piece made of Mont Blanc ink and through its presentation it was easy to see she could see places of performance and understand how the artist got there.
The deeper we travel into the channels called American culture the farther we are from inspiration and influence. We’ve become a generation locked on fad and like fat, it’s dragging our lungs down making everything we come in contact with too heavy to carry.
Talk about seizing control of the vein of gold; thousands of dollars are spent annually on the symphony, Broadway plays that have become boring pieces in New York so they've launched national tours making small towns like Charlotte and Charleston feel important for seven days, pro sports aren’t about protecting fans but rather gathering enough cash to finance the next fresh from college millionaire.
No wonder we aren’t taking note of the newly released film The Trial!
We’re focused on doing the same thing over and over again. Yet we constantly complain about Reality TV being souped up episodes of Ozzy and Harriet, sitcom storylines are no different than Archie Bunker, Al Bundy and I love Lucy. America’s Got Talent is Star Search on steroids and how many times can Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller play the same character and still rake in enough cha-chings to pay this months rent?
Our Town Cinema’s is a tiny whisper in the middle of a major hurricane; the missing lyric in a favorite song you discover years after first heard; the middle ground when your shoes are shaped to move through the beginning and end. Art is invisible, it has no face, it has no heart beat and there can be continuation from its origin until we begin to open our eyes.
Nothing motivates me more than taking six steps back from reality and watching someone you know grow.
I love my mother dearly but have never understood why she could physically see my passion to write and perform music but did nothing to get me lessons. I settled for radio instead. Now it’s become my vow to ignite sight in the masked worlds we keep; through insight there is a stage and everyday it shall always call your name. There can be no change in the way we’re entertained until someone decides to be different.
The Trial…see localism in a movie house whose heart is in the right place…Our Town Cinemas in Davidson.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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