Here's an interesting story. The other day I happened to mention to someone that I curate a cinema. Their response? "Where do I sign up?"

It made me laugh, and I had to resist the urge that I always seem to have where I give all sorts of reasons why it's not as cool as you think it is. But then I stopped myself for a moment of reflection.

It is cool. I get to watch movies. A lot of movies. Some are definitely better than others, but there are definitely a lot of them. Movies about everything you can imagine, in every language there is. In a strange way, movies have provided me an education I would never have gotten otherwise. I've learned a lot about a variety of historical events (particularly revolutions of Latin American and Spain), about a variety of cultures, and even about filmmaking. I see a variety of styles and strategies filmmakers use to tell their stories, and I even get to see careers of filmmakers and actors as they develop and grow. It's pretty fantastic.

But the truth is, the movie business is like the Mississippi: It runs far and wide, can be incredibly shallow, and always seems to be kind of muddy. What I do is just a teensy-weensy part of the industry. If it were on a pie chart of the whole business, it would be the half of a half sliver that annoying girl on a diet always asks for. There are so many components of the movie industry (many of them for accountants and lawyers, naturally), that it seems impossible to fathom how people find their way into it. I actually got in by accident. And truth be told, I only have the tip of my toe in the industry.

Sometimes I wonder what diving in would look like. What kid of jobs in the industry would be the coolest?

Well, of course I'd love to be a director. That would be pretty sweet, foisting my opinions on everyone. Being the boss (if only for a little while). I'd also love to be a screenwriter. Obviously, I enjoy writing. I also like to think I have a talent for it. Also, working on sets is pretty freaking cool. It's like a magician telling you the secret to all the tricks, then doing them right before your eyes, and it's still magical. Plus, there's some kind of collective agreement within crews to generally not be jerks to each other and help each other with whatever needs to be done. It's an atmosphere of teamwork that is often a missing in the world these days.

If you get into the more business-y side of things, I think it would be awesome to work in acquisitions or development. One of them is finding awesome movies and buying them for distribution, and the other is working with screenwriters and producers and so forth to help them make the best movie possible. In a way, they're very similar, since they both involve being able to recognize talent.

Don't get me wrong. I love what I do. I don't plan on making a leap to another tributary anytime soon. But really, can't we just dream about stuff sometimes? What would you do if you worked in the movie biz?

So the Summer of Lisa has been going on for a week, and I must say I'm having a wonderful time. Summer of Lisa might extend to all four seasons. At some point I'll probably publish a record of everything I did every day, just so we can all remember that I actually did stuff. But today was a particularly fun day, since I ventured up to Los Angeles to visit with some friends and talk about movies more than normal people should. Course, we're not really normal people. We're full on movie freaks. 

So anyway, I ended up at Sony Studios, which is the first time I've ever actually visited a major film studio not as a tourist. You see, I know someone on the 'inside'. His name is Chris and he works in Sony's Repertory division, which means he takes care of the Sony's titles after their initial theatrical run. That means that when White House Down is finished playing in your local multiplex, Chris takes over and keeps track of it and makes sure that people will still be able to see it for a long time to come. This is pretty amazing when you realize how many truly wonderful films have come from Sony; films like Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day, Annie, and old classics like On the Waterfront. I'm really simplifying what he does, but that's basically it. He's part of a talented team of people that keep films alive.

He was nice enough to invite me up, and he took me on a private tour of the lot, which is an enormous place. Somewhere in my brain I knew that studio lots were big, but standing in front of the doors of the sound stages, big enough for T-Rex to walk through without ducking, it kind of made my brain hurt. Those sound stages aren't just big, they're enormous. They make warehouses look cute. We walked into an empty one, and I wanted to run around and scream and do some cartwheels. I didn't (I was trying to be professional), but if I did, I could go on and on for hours and still not get all the way around it. 

And because of Sony's connection to Columbia Pictures and MGM, the lot has so much history. The sound stage where Esther Williams did most of her films? Yep, it's there. There's also a stage that fills with water, where Lifeboat was made. 
And the building I'm standing in front of in the picture? That's where they keep their Oscars (for Best Picture). All ten of them. 

We went in to look at them, and even though they're just small gold men with movie posters behind them, it was still pretty impressive. There's a lot of history behind that glass. I couldn't help but ask the security guard if he sometimes takes them out just to hold them for a few minutes. 

"Only for cleaning, which doesn't happen as often as it probably should."

Well, if they ever want to hire someone to do that job, I'll be the first to send my CV.

Benjamin Bratt is a busy man. But you would be too, if you were as talented as he is. He's one of those actors who manages to morph from role to role, whether it's comedy, sci-fi, or drama, he seems at home. I recently took a foray down memory lane to review some of his work. Full disclosure: I never watched Law & Order. Or Private Practice.

Still, Mr. Bratt has an entertaining and impressive body of work. Many of my California friends invoke the title of Blood In Blood Out as a film that has had a significant impact of their lives, whether they are Latino or not. If you haven't seen the film, it's interesting to see that it features some actors that were fairly new to the scene back then, but are now well known and respected actors, including Ving Rhames, Danny Trejo, and Billy Bob Thornton. The film plays out as a brother against brother drama, but is really an exploration of community, family, belonging, and forgiveness. Just under 10 years later, Bratt played the lead role in Piñero, a biopic directed by Cuban-American Leon Ichaso (who is known for directing the TV series Miami Vice). A fascinating film about a fascinating man, it moves between modes of storytelling that makes the film seem like an extension of the man, and Bratt pulls it off well. 

I did see Bratt on a couple of TV shows; Andromeda Strain and Modern Family. While he has great charisma and comedic timing as Gloria's ex-husband on Modern Family, it's nice to know he's able to play roles that aren't specifically Latino, like the scientist of Andromeda (and of course a doctor on Private Practice and detective on Law & Order). I know you didn't ask, but I'm just going to throw it out there: not enough Latinos are cast in roles like that, whether it's television or film. Bratt pulls it off effortlessly, because hey, that's what actors do.

And then a few weeks ago I saw him in a quiet film from Canada titled The Lesser Blessed that explores the coming of age of a young Dagreb tribe member of the Northern Territories. Bratt plays the boy's father-figure; a strong, sometimes absent presence in the boy's life that brings direction and peace to a tumultuous and confusing kid struggling with bullies, a crush, and remembering traditions. It's not Bratt's most high profile role, but it's a really good one. This film stuck with me for several days; the grayish darkness at what seems like the top of the world, the buttoned up parkas hiding who-knows-what beneath downy feathers and long underwear. It's a film for those who want something smart and different. I know I've never seen a film like this, from a place I literally know nothing about.

And for anyone who is wondering (or will let me brag a bit), I had the privilege of meeting him and his brother a few years ago at the San Diego Latino Film Festival, when their film La Mission was playing. Not only was it a powerful film that truly moved the audience, but the Bratts(Ben's brother Peter directed La Mission) were delightful. It's difficult not to like people who are charming, witty, smart, and hunky. I for one, look forward to seeing more great work from Ben (and Peter!).

What is a film geek? What is a cinephile? Well, WikiHow, not surprisingly, has the answer for you. If you look at both the lists, you'll notice that 6 of the step have absolutely nothing to do with movies. Cinephilia has to do with being obsessed with Titanic, among other things.

Well, no offense to WikiHow (it's my go-to site whenever I need step-by-step instructions, along with eHow), but being obsessed doesn't have anything to do with whether or not you're wearing a hoodie or sweatpants, or how many charm bracelets you're wearing, or what kind of glasses you sport. The truth is, cinephiles and film geeks are exactly like homicidal maniacs: they look just like everyone else.

Cinephiles and Film Geeks are basically the same thing. It's possible Film Geeks don't take themselves as seriously. They probably use words like 'lovely' or 'sublime' a lot less than most cinephiles. But there's one thing WikiHow did get right. Both cinephiles and film geeks love movies. They watch movies. New movies, old movies, funny movies, serious movies, long movies, short movies. Movies in English, movies in other languages, movies in color, movies in black and white. True movies, made-up movies, and movies in between the two.

Cinephiles devour everything cinema. So do film geeks. But the special thing about them is that they do it together. They talk about movies, the think about movies, the watch movies in groups. They're like schools of fishes, swimming towards a brightly lit screen in hopes of being moved, inspired, cajoled, and entertained.

In the end, I think that's the difference between cinephiles and film geeks. Film geeks are a clique. Not a closed, snobby clique like those jerks in high school, but a clique that always seems to be recruiting new members. New followers of the gospel, where they can meet up regularly and go to their cinema church. It's pretty fabulous, really. Which is why I'm proud to come out as a fully-fledged film geek. 

Yep. If this group had membership cards, I would have one too. And it's wonderful to meet up with my other film geek members. We all love different movies, quote different characters, and swoon over different actors and directors, looking skyward with coos of "she's so talented" or "that's my favorite". We make our top 10 lists (unless your Scorsese; then you make a top 85 list). And anyone can join.

So what do you have to do to join? It's easy! Watch movies. Enjoy movies. Go to the theater and sit with your fellow film geeks. Turn off your phone and turn on to the screen. Groucho Marx once said "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." I'm pretty sure he meant every club except this one, since he was definitely a film geek. 

Today I participated in a fundraiser for a great non-profit in San Diego called San Diego Writers, Ink. It's peopled with writers who help other writers become better writers, and whenever I participate in something they put on, I'm not disappointed.

But somewhere, deep down, is a nagging little voice asking me why I'm working to raise money for another non-profit besides my own. But that voice really needs to pipe down. Why? Because I'm working to raise money for the non-profit I work for every day. Yes, EVERY day. In case you didn't know, Media Arts Center San Diego has been around for quite a while, spreading the gospel of digital media and storytelling since its inception. That gospel has grown to include camps for kids, documentary classes for teenagers, partner programs with California libraries, and workshops for adults. Everything from how to take pictures with your fancy new DSLR to how to build your own steadicam.

Oh, and we also show movies.

That's my job. I often get an odd reaction from people when they find out what I do. "You mean you get to watch movies? All the time?"

Yes, all the time. I'm lucky enough to have a job that includes something most people (including myself) enjoy. I get to watch movies, meet filmmakers, and sometimes visit film festivals. I'm not going to tell you that it's not as glamorous as it sounds, because you wouldn't believe me anyway, and that's like complaining that your Maserati doesn't purr at 20 mph like it does at 80. Small potatoes.

So yes, I do love what I do. I love watching movies. But I also feel like I'm participating in something that matters. Yes, the education programs that are provided by Media Arts Center are wonderful. There is a wonderful staff of people that attend to all the details and ensure that they are enriching for kids young and old. The video production programs are also wonderful. Media Arts has managed to help a plethora of organizations that don't have access to the digital media tools and knowledge that we have in order to help them send their message around the internet and back again. Because that's what we do: provide access.

So now we have this Digital Gym, where you can get training on all things digital, like the YMCA, but for your brain and creativity instead of your body. And we also have a movie theater, which is where I come in.


But how does that fit in? Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing enough, not contributing enough, or not do-gooding enough. And then I reflect.

I've been at the organization for six years, programming films for the San Diego Latino Film Festival, Que Viva! Cine Latino, Cinema en tu Idioma, and a number of other community screenings. We've partnered with the SD Asian Film Festival, the Jewish Film Festival, Horrible Imaginings Film Festival, and countless other community groups to get messages out and spur cross-cultural dialogue within the San Diego community. Now I program the Digital Gym Cinema, and I'm constantly asking myself, what is this film for?

It's simple, really. Film is for people. It's for ideas. It's for creativity and sharing. There is not one single filmmaker on the planet who makes a film to watch alone in their own living room. Films are made to be seen, by groups of people, to share something that filmmaker thinks is important. It's just up to me, as the curator of the Digital Gym Cinema, to try to figure out what the community most wants, or what the community most needs.

So if I may, I'd like to reflect on what's come along so far. A film about the danger of greed (The Brass Teapot). A film about a family dealing with the separation of living on both sides of the border (Aqui y Alla). A film about zero-emissions motorcycle racing (Charge). A film about French capitulation to the Nazis during WWII (La Rafle). A film about women in India as the country develops (The World Before Her). A film about the pollution of our land and oceans (Trashed). These aren't all of them, but they all have a story to tell that I think is worth telling. Some films were more well attended than others. I take no offense.

What I am always looking for is the movie that is simply a beautiful work of art. Something about it reaches down deep and pulls at you, whether it's the music, the visuals, the story, or a combination of all of those that keeps you in your seat for a couple of hours (or longer!) because you can't take your eyes and ears away from the screen. And sometimes I hear, "How is that helping people?"

I despise that kind of response. Movies are art. They contain art. They blend art. And I still believe in art for art's sake. Many years ago, I found myself in Paris at the Louvre. I went through the galleries and found myself in front of the Mona Lisa. I didn't stand there and wonder how that was helping people. I admired it, and the other works, as something that makes our lives a little less dull. An expression of something someone wanted to share.

Let me be clear: artists (and filmmakers) are not required to change the world. If Iron Man has taught us anything, it's that audiences don't expect movies to change the world. They expect something to be shared. A story, an idea, a thought. Some artists are activists, and I think that's great. Some are not, and that's great, too. But what all of them are doing is engaging. 

This is what I strive to program at the Digital Gym Cinema. So as we look forward, I'm excited about the variety of shares coming our way. A film about the coming-of-age of a teenager from the Dagreb tribe (The Lesser Blessed). A transgender story of impossible, unextinguishable love and romance (Laurence Anyways). A film about the complicated world of Somali pirates (Stolen Seas). A poetic journey from schoolbus to public transportation in Guatemala (La Camioneta). A film about two musicians who tragically died before their time, but not before their genius rooted (Greetings From Tim Buckley).

I sincerely hope to create engagement. What engages you?

Today we’re talking about music and film, two of my very favorite things in the whole wide world. Music is a form of expression that goes back to the beginning of time, where we created rhythm that somehow turned into a ticking clock that helped us measure the journey of the sun through the sky (Think about THAT next time the tic-tic-tic of a clock is annoying the crap out of you!).

Music infiltrates our worlds, our lives, our thoughts, in such ways that we don’t fully understand, but we know that it does. It can calm us down, pump us up, and research has shown that it can be used to improve your health. Some people even think it can make us smarter. Check out this article from CNN for the science.

In other words, music speaks to a primitive part of our being that we can never separate ourselves from. It is powerful, whether we like it or not.

And then there’s film. Film is a unique artform in that it combines all other forms of art: theater, visual art, performance art, dance, and yes, music too. It is a synergistic combination of different forms of expression that somehow amount to something greater than the sum of its parts. Film is, in short, magic.

Like music, movies affect us in ways we don’t fully comprehend.  There’s a great book by Colin McGinn called The Power of Movies that delves into how our minds meld with screens, in terms that even a non-scientist like myself can find engaging and understand.

Because of our close connection to music and film, it’s surprising that not every film is about music. However, there are several out in theaters, or coming soon that can vie for your attention, whether you love opera, folk, jazz, punk, or some other form of music.

Here are a few:
Violeta Went to Heaven
Greetings from Tim Buckley
Becoming Traviata
20 Feet From Stardom
A Band Called Death

So go ahead. Sing along. We’ll turn the volume up.

One of the things about the Cannes Film Festival is that there is always something to look at. If you're bored, or feel like there's nothing to do, you must be staring at your feet from your apartment. There is more than enough glitter and glam to go around on La Croisette.

Still, it's an interesting phenomenon that extends beyond Cannes to all parts of the film industry. Spectacle. The movie is a spectacle. That's the whole point of its existence. It provides something to look at for a certain amount of time. Some films are dark and moody, leaving the spectator to ferret out whatever it is they want to see. Others are bright and constantly moving, forcing the viewer to keep up or get left behind. But that's not the spectacle I'm talking about.

I'm talking about the spectacle before and after the movie. The ever-bright red carpet itself is a beacon for seekers of spectacle, drawing them in like moths to a flame. And then there are the moths themselves. We see these people on the red carpet, dressed from head to toe in the most eye-catching duds they could find. These outfits flutter and sway, mesmerizing onlookers and photographers alike, who imagine the spectacle that must be at the end of the red carpet. The more glorious the outfits, the more spectacular the spectacle. At least that's what we imagine.

The rhinestones, the glitter, the shiny fabrics are all highlighted even more with the brightest lights imaginable, glinting off every surface, whether it is machine or human. Cars, barricades, satin gowns, diamond necklaces, even glittery makeup. It's a temporary Las Vegas strip, drawing us in with promises akin to Ali Baba's Cave of Wonders. If all this wonderful-ness is going inside, then what's inside must be magnificent. Truly.

Cannes, however, does spectacle like no one else. Everyone goes all out in the competition for attention, trying to attract more of it than their competitors. It seems silly when you talk about it, but the truth is that it matters.

What if there were no black-tie galas?

What if there weren't hundreds of blinding white lights to bring daylight in the dark of night?

What if there were no sparkles?

What if there were no thumping sounds of activities?

What if there were no sleek expensive sports cars rumbling alongside you?

Answer: There would be no flash-bulbs.

People would stop coming.

The spectacle would fade into banality.

There is a thing in us, a curiosity perhaps, to know what everyone else knows. When we see a crowd of people looking at the same thing, we want to know what that thing is. It doesn't matter if it's a movie star, a police standoff, or a squirrel eating an ice cream cone. We want to see. We want to know.

And movies provide this, both inside and outside the theater. And it seems the rest of the world has followed suit. Our lives are full of spectacle, from the latest reality show to the news to everything on the internet. We look voraciously, never fully satiated. For some, this need to see sometimes spirals into a desire to see more and more graphic images, of any nature. We never tire of seeing.

At least at Cannes, most of what we're seeing is make-believe. Or at least temporary.

People often wonder why I pick the films I do. It seems like a simple process, and in some ways, it is. Basically, I watch a film, then decide if it's good. But therein lies the complication. What is good? Is it a familiar face? Is it stunning photography? Is it a story with a message? The answer is yes. This is the starting point to a labyrinthian series of decisions and possibilities that determine whether we end up showing a particular film.

Let's start with the famous faces. We all know that when we see an actor that we like in one of those alluring 'Coming Soon' trailers, our stomachs do a little flip of joy and our brains make a little note to put that date on our calendars. But who do we like? Well, there's definitely some debate about that, but filmmakers generally pay more to people they think we like. So according to that notion, these ladies that would seem to carry huge cache for us. Kristen Stewart is at the very top of that list. One of my personal favorites, Nicole Kidman, didn't even break into the top ten. Neither did 2012's Best Actress Oscar Winner (whose work I also enjoy), Jennifer Lawrence. As for leading men? We have the top ten list for them, too. Tom Cruise, anyone? Yep, the action hero still is at the top of the list. So does that mean those are really the faces you want to see? Would you flock to see a film starring Tom and Kristen?

I'm also wondering if you noticed anything funny about those lists. Anyone? In 2012, Tom brought down over twice as much Kristen. Maybe I'll write about that another time. But I digress. 

Then we move on to the photography. This is particularly sticky, in that there are so many ways to shoot a film. It can be ultra-saturated images that include every color of the rainbow, or something drained of color down to a nearly monochromatic visual that sets a particular kind of mood. It could be a carefully composed series of shots on tripods and smoothly moving dolly shots, or a jerky, hand-held film that infuses the visuals with a sense of spontaneity and immediacy. People definitely have preferences for either (I tend to prefer the use of a tripod), but the way a film is photographed can bring great depth to a story that might not have otherwise been there.

And the story? Always key. Some people have an innate desire to see something they can learn from, or something that will lift their spirits from the depths, or share a message of hope, action, or humanity. Some people just want some good explosions. Some people want to see something that has won an Oscar, or other awards that speak to its pedigree. This article has collected all the data you need for the perfect movie. But did it really?

What I'm trying to say is that when I choose movies, I generally pick things that I enjoy watching, which actually includes a wide range of stuff. I know there are people who enjoy movies I don't care for, and I try to keep that in mind as I watch. Things like "Would my mom like this movie?" often run through my head, as well as "How many people on average would fall asleep watching this?"

So tell me. What kind of movies do you like? Do famous actors really matter to you? What's the weirdest movie you thought you would hate but ended up liking?

Seriously, is Kickstarter busted? And yes, that's a double meaning. Kickstarter has been around for only 4 years, but has significantly changed the way we look at funding art, music, movies, and even inventions. But in the last couple of weeks, Kickstarter has changed to such a degree that many are questioning the model. So, did people finally figure out how to really exploit what Kickstarter is about, or did they just break it altogether?

When the whole thing started, it seemed so innocent. Artists who had no money were finally able to find funding for their projects, either through their friends, or a network of strangers that truly believed in what they were doing. People were inventing things, and since they didn't necessarily have the means to put up cash for manufacturing their doo-dads, they found people willing to buy their products and basically front the cash in order to get them made. It was a fantasyland of ideas and wonder. I even found a project recently that was just some guy who wanted to draw cats for people. His enthusiasm was undeniable (who doesn't want a cute drawing of a cat?), but alas, the artistry wasn't quite there, and his project wasn't funded.

So, Kickstarter became a place to find ideas, inventions, and all manner of emerging artists in all sorts of media. And then came Veronica Mars. Veronica Mars the television show lasted for three seasons, then vanished suddenly with very little warning and no fanfare. The series didn't even get the normal series finale that is afforded to most shows. It simply went away. Many fans were outraged. Mind you, this is a rabid bunch. They really can't get enough of their spunky gumshoe (actually, the show was pretty good), and wanted to see her move on to the FBI and 'big time' crimes. They wanted to see Veronica get her guy-- both the criminal and the love interest. But sadly, that never came. For years, there was chatter about a movie, but every time the gossip got off the ground, it quickly got shot down. 

Then Rob Marshall (the creator of Veronica Mars) got an idea. He would go straight to the fans. Warner Brothers gave their blessing that if he could raise $2 million, they would support the marketing of the film (which is actually very expensive). So he opened up a Kickstarter campaign, and lo and behold, within 2 days (2 DAYS!) fans had pledged the minimum amount necessary. By the time the campaign ended 30 days later, many Kickstarter records had been broken, Marshall ended up with over $5 million, and it looks like the Veronica Mars movie is a go. But the story doesn't end there.

Then comes Zach Braff. Many people know and love him from the TV show Scrubs. Some remember his film Garden State. And still others revile him for "ruining" Oz. Whatever the case, he decided to jump into the Kickstarter ring. And yet again, we saw a well-known celebrity manage to raise a large amount of money ($2.2 million as of this writing) in a short amount of time (6 days). However, there is a noticeable difference. In Braff's project, no amount of money can buy you a copy of the film on DVD. Or Blu-Ray. For $100 you can see the film in certain cities. For $150 you can even get a copy of Garden State (I guarantee Target has it for much less). So what's the deal?

Normally, when people fund a project, one of the incentives is that they will get a copy of the finished product. Not so in this case. Why? Because Braff wants to sell that, too. You see, big studios pay big money for the rights to distribute movies on DVD and Blu-Ray. So, in effect, Braff gets paid twice. You pay him to make the movie, then you pay to see the movie, then you pay for a copy of the movie. Are you starting to see how this is broken?

On a side note, it is interesting to note that both the Veronica Mars project and Zach Braff's project list being an 'actor' with a spoken line as one of the perks. Meaning, you pay $10,000, they let you say something on camera. Seems legit, right? Except when you realize that they are supposed to pay you for that. There are hundreds, no, thousands of actors out there trying to make a living, and somehow you are supposed to pay for the privilege to say "Here's your check, sir."? Seems like a complete negation of the craft of acting, but this is somewhat debatable (Keanu Reeves, anyone?). Anyway..

So, here's the deal. Has Kickstarter "gone Hollywood"? Is there any room left for regular people who have spectacular ideas? Is fundraising really just like being the prom king or queen, where the person who gets the most money is the one that's also the most popular? Is this how we're going to fund art?

I say this: don't forget about the world of grants. Yes, it is tough. You have to do a lot of writing. But you also have to have a project worth funding. Most grant committees care more about the merit of the work than how many Facebook friends or Twitter followers you have. Or how long you've been in syndication. Maybe we should start a fund for art that is blind to names, that looks at the work instead. Who's with me? Maybe I'll start a Kickstarter campaign to fund a grant that's for real artists. Who will give me $10?

I'd love to hear your take on this.

Because I'm responsible for choosing so many films that I think people will like or should see in San Diego, I find that there are many folks to want to know what I was thinking. Sometimes they feel as if I may have lost my mind, and sometimes they are grateful that I've found a story they connect to on a deep level. And sometimes they just want my help in remembering the title of a great film they say a few years back and can't forget(except the title, that is). Whatever the reason, I love talking to our audiences. This blog is an attempt to extend those conversations and be even more available for chats.

I don't pretend to know everything about movies, and like all art, film is subjective, so my opinion is only worth as much as people decide. At the same time, I have been teaching film for several years, and if there is some piece of knowledge that I can impart to another person who is hungry for it, I'm more than willing to give. I love teaching. I love talking. But most of all, I love learning, and I know that our audiences have much to teach me about what they love about movies and why they think certain movies are valuable while others should be banned to the trash heap. We all would put different films in each pile, and I think that is what makes it so awesome. Film speaks to pretty much everyone on some level. And now, I want to speak to you about what those levels are. Bring it on, cinema-goers!