Archer City… For 6 years of my life from 1983-1989 every time I saw a film I turned left through this tiny dot on the map. I knew this was the home of THE LAST PICTURE SHOW – and it was a rather unfortunate irony that I never really stopped here… of course in those years, this town wasn’t the town I visited today.
Larry McMurtry hadn’t stocked the 4 bookstores he has here, the Royal Theater wasn’t here – it had burnt to the ground some years before. Right now as I write this, my brand spanking new laptop is resting upon the craggy remains of the original Royal Theater walls staring at a deflated movie screen the 6 great speakers, a beautiful oak tree and from the blue sky above raindrops are falling and there’s a rainbow in a pure blue sky…
And to my left a small ocean of people are arriving… From Oklahoma, Dallas, Ft Worth, Louisiana, San Antonio, Archer City, Wichita Falls… and then there’s me.
I’m an Austin bleeding heart liberal that spent 6 years living in one of the reddest counties in Texas. Baylor. People say you reject or rebel against the world you knew in your teenage years – and to a degree, that’s absolutely true. But my aggravation isn’t with these people. Most of them, I’d say 80% of this audience is Republican… I don’t think of them as stupid – I don’t loathe them, they’ve just chosen a different way of life.
Earlier today as we filled up with gas here in town – these two ladies from different cars that were filling up were having a helluva time talking to one another and my father was aggravated… hurry up… fill up and move on…
It was at that point that I realized how eager all of us city folks are. I said to dad, "Calm down, we’re in air condition, what are they in a hurry for? They’re in Archer City… Take your time."
These are folks that can’t imagine being too busy to raise their kids, to need day care. They can’t imagine drug rehab. They wear dirty Levis, button up plaid shirts… lots of baseball caps… and this is a big time in Archer City. Something different is coming to town. The Rolling RoadShow. Johnny Cash is belting out of the Drafthouse’s speakers and everyone is talking to the person to the left and right.
“Hey neighbor, where you from?” and a smile.
Earlier today at my Great Aunt’s house in Wichita Falls, her friend that was visiting went to school with the child molester character from the film. Apparently this fella’s mom was a bit upset with the character he played. I wonder how many people in this audience have similar tales about this film… a movie like THE LAST PICTURE SHOW… it means a ton to a place like this. It’s part of why they’re on the map. Oddly, believe it or not – I’ve never seen THE LAST PICTURE SHOW. I know, sacrilege – but you grow up in this neck of the woods – the last thing I wanted to see was a film reminding me how miserable it was. Right? That’s what I thought for years, then as with nearly all that escape the fate they felt they’d never get away from… I grew to miss these roads, the flat plains and the hills of the river valley, the mesquite trees, the tumbleweeds and the crops and the smell of the place. Most of all, it was the night skies. The quiet simplicity of life. The ritual of the hour drive to the theater with friends on roads going 80mph, those always felt like the best times. When going to the arcade was a big deal.
It was also hard work hauling hay, cleaning out the horse stalls – the memory of the smell still gags me to this day. Shoveling the hog shit was nothing in comparison – at least the hog pens were open air. And I’ll never forget how heavy the 20th Alfalfa bale seemed to weigh as you threw it up to the stackers on the truck. Ouch. Most of the folks that worked at our ranch were about pussy and getting drunk – the bi-purpose to existence.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking I think this is some backwoods scratch your nuts in public sorta place. In a way it is. It’s hotter than hell here, but people don’t mind. And right now as I sit in the shadow of this building – I’m connecting online via high speed wireless – that’s right, this tiny place is completely wire-free and broadband… Ya really don’t expect that in a redneck hick town. But like I said, this isn’t the same Archer City from my teens. This is much cooler. Looking out at the crowd, there’s folks in their seventies and eighties here… All the way down to kids – and folks that brought their dogs. There’s a guy from Dallas that reads the site, that works with his Dad building houses under contract and just loves the feeling of building homes for people. Good folks.
Oops. Right now, a fellow is up talking about the Late Evening Country Boys band, and how they have an upcoming show where apparently afterwards you grab your gun and go kill a ton of doves, enjoy a skeet shoot. How great is that?
Right in front of me, one of the Rolling Roadshow guys is hammering a huge spike into the ground with a sledgehammer and he has all 300 or so folks that are here so far. There’s blankets, folding chairs – when suddenly this fella walks up to the stone wall I’m typing on and this lady on my side says:
“Whata y’all think?”
This balding guy in a western shirt and a handlebar moustache responds: “I dunno, you’re the ones with the intellects” – She responds by point across the street, and he goes, “Awl-right,” turns and walks across the front of the crowd. There was an odd break in the music, when the gentleman turns to the growing audience and screams out: “Folks – Welcome to Archer City!” while holding his arms way above his head.
Classic.
A little bit after this, Tim League, the P.T. Barnum of Theatrical Exhibition, comes up with a big smile on his face. This first chapter of this epic journey has turned up golden, in terms of turn out. He estimates the crowd is going to be around 350-375. I tell him how much I love his out in the middle of the woods pre-show music. A mix of Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Sr/Jr… There’s Marty Robbins, Willie Nelson, some pure honky tonk stuff… But in all… It’s perfect music for the time and place we’re in. The audience is grooving. This musical grouping was specifically created for THIS pre-show, for this audience. That’s the sort of care that goes into this, I can’t wait to see what’s there for the others. He’s still a bit concerned about the future roadshows saying that he had really great press on this particular screening. Then…
Tim’s Phone lights up – That’s Karrie, his wife – and that means she and Polly Platt are here. Tim looks up at the deepening darkness – and he’s off to kick the tires and rev this show on up. As he leaves, I notice that there are little ambient yard lights marking the wires running along the grass… and also the route to the bathrooms. Then there are the double peak tents, Christmas lights dangling muted to light the work the staff must do to sell concessions.
Willie comes on… the audience’s heads are slightly swaying to “I’m crrrrazzzzy” Ah, a bit of Austin that soothes them all. Beer is consumed, soda, and the street lights in the distant cast a small town aura over this one blinking red-light town.
The stark white light of the theatrical spot illuminates Tim as he takes the microphone. He welcomes the audience to the first step on the 11 step 6000 mile odyssey that we are setting out on. He gestures to the 75 people or so that are sitting in the ruins of the original Royal theater and says that this is perhaps the first time in history that THE LAST PICTURE SHOW has been seen from within its ethereal hallowed walls. My feet rest atop its stone remains.
I’m typing notes as we start, little tidbits like the jet that is flying 20,000 feet overhead. I think about the one or two people looking down upon us thinking… there’s nothing down there, and just how wrong, tonight, they are. The audience’s applause and appreciation for Tim’s introduction snaps my gaze from the sky, as the dear Mr. League introduces Polly Platt, who at the time of THE LAST PICTURE SHOW was Bogdanovich’s partner in all things – love, passion for film and in the creation of film. Since their parting of ways – she’s gone on to produce films like the original BAD NEWS BEARS, SAY ANYTHING, BOTTLE ROCKET and more.
As Polly takes the field – her feet are tickled by the soft field of grass as Tim adjusts her microphone to the proper height. She starts off talking about how excited she was to see that there was actually a pretty damn big audience here for this film. She recalls that when Peter and her came to Archer City to shoot the film, they just were not very welcomed by the populace. Larry’s book was considered a scandalous piece of smut at the time. She remembers that when they did the scene with Cybil Sheppard in the car with a bikini top – that the rumor that went about town was that they had a naked woman out in a car. Stuff like that resulted in all homes being closed to them… they had to find those interiors elsewhere.
The first time she was here it was an hour before sundown in the winter. She stressed how cold it was, and I sympathized. This particular piece of earth is savaged by heat from the anvil of Satan and the bitter coldness of winter. The first thing she says she thought about Archer City was disbelief. She just couldn’t believe that a nuanced intelligent genius of a man like Larry McMurtry – that he could have possibly come from here. She remembered that it was Sal Mineo that first handed her the novel proclaiming its genius. The lurid cover featuring a half nude lady made her think otherwise, but then she read it. Amazing what not judging books by their covers, but by their actual worth can do for one.
She went off into the darkness, she’d be back… after the film for a Q&A – but for now it was time for trailers and a film, it was time to close the laptop and experience this location and this entertainment.
The trailers were all Polly Platt films: SAY ANYTHING, YOUNG DOCTORS IN LOVE, PAPER MOON and BOTTLE ROCKET. Oddly, I’d say this rather unique audience only got a kick out of the trailer for YOUNG DOCTORS IN LOVE. Weird.
THE LAST PICTURE SHOW
Fucking incredible.
I don’t know if this thing is close to any of your lives… but Jesus Christ.
Watching a film about the death of all simple things – after returning to this area for the first time in nearly 11 years, well the movie is an eerie reflection of a fictional past and my very real history in this area. Yesterday, I drove by my ranch - the old Ghost Town my sis and I own – falling to pieces. The old 1930’s church gently pitching forward… it isn’t long for this world, the steeple still gothically pleasing, but one big bad wolf’s blow from a topple. My grandmother’s abstract company in town – abandoned, the booze shop my mother drank herself into oblivion from – closed. Driving around my ranch – it seemed haunted. Memories from 15 years ago, gone. I can’t possibly express how perfect this film was for me.
I’m sure most of you know this classic film inside and out. Remember that bat out of hell panicked escape drive that Timothy Bottoms’ character did after the death of his best friend? I did that, same road, same turn around. My best friend died my senior year. I was driving a lime green 1978 Cadillac at the time. I was driving so fast that the car seemed to be floating above the road. I remember thinking I could catch up with him if I only drove fast enough, reason makes you live and slow down and face your fate.
Then there’s that damn monologue of Ben Johnson’s at the tank with the “Bottoms’ Boys” where he’s talking about the freest most joyful part of his life. This scene, this performance, this is what you just never fucking see anymore. It feels like a 20 minute monologue – given in a few minutes. One shot… the lighting changing the whole time as if the sun was dotting in and out of the clouds above. It’s magic. It’s a man that most don’t see as having a heart, spilling it for these two kids to see and hear. He’s spilling it, why?
“If she was here I'd probably be just as crazy now as I was then in about 5 minutes. Ain't that ridiculous?... Naw, it ain't really. 'Cause being crazy about a woman like her is always the right thing to do. Being an old decrepit bag of bones, that's what's ridiculous.”
That’s the end of it all – and Johnson’s delivery is genius. Robert Surtee’s cinematography and lighting genius. Bogdanovich’s infinite faith that the dialogue, Johnson and the camera would captivate each and every member of the audience to such a degree that they couldn’t possibly look away for a second… was dead on. It’s genius. One of the most perfectly earned Oscars ever here.
And Cloris Leachman’s Ruth Popper. My god. The repressed level of living she’s at, the agony of hope, the joy of feeling when you thought it dead, the bitterness of rejection and the damn truth of it all – we’d give up pride and agony for happiness, any day of the week… another chance at living. When her Ruth is happy and playful in this film – she’s the most beautiful being on film tonight. Wow.
So much of the direction of this film is just – fucking unbelievable. That scene of Cybil stripping at the pool party. Not a cinematic striptease, but the true awkwardness of being open for the first time. About exposing one’s self. No soundtrack… barely any sounds other than the gentle lapping of the water of the pool and the creaking of the diving board. The silent debate of bra or panties first. It’s the same with that first coupling between Timothy and Cloris. The final disrobing would take place under the covers, they were just too shy for that to be out in the open. How great is that?
Today’s stars are so conscious of looking good – the directors so aware of trying to make it look perfect that they forget. Sex, nudity – it isn’t porn or Playboy… It’s fun, scary, awkward, awaited and cherished. This film is so damn real it’s scary. I’d love to see a film with this sort of nerve today. I just don’t see it happening.
God – that part where Ben Johnson’s disgust with those boys for bringing that quiet Bottoms boy back with a bloody nose and with no dignity. “None of you even had the decency to even clean his face.” Amazing line.
Now I can finally watch my DVD of this film. I can’t wait to watch it again. But what will ever match this first time, feet on broken walls, a brownish-yellow harvest looking moon peeking over the trees in the distance, to my right – I can see the red glow of the neon from the ROYAL theater’s sign on the sidewalk outside. In a town that was a turn to every film I saw in Junior High and High School. Featuring roads I drove, a swimming pool I swam in and feelings I had bottled up in me, but with the sadness of time remembering those days with rose colored glasses.
That final scene – is there a better quiet resolution of the unforgivable? That dust bowl death scene screaming frustration at folks that just didn’t understand the meaning of the life that was extinguished laying there on the asphalt at their feet. Talking about him with no consideration that a life was taken. This is a film about disconnected folks that just can not and will not ever change the cycle of their lives. It’s about the ones that leave towns and never will. It’s about how scary being comfortable is, but at the same time how terrifying the unknown is. It’s about eras we’ll never see again and the death of the small town movie theaters. “With the theater closed there won’t be anything to do in town.” Except gossip, nitpick and henpeck that is.
As the end credits rolled and I was left sitting there blown away by the sheer greatness of the film, the presentation and the personal resonance of it all – the spotlight burns a hole in the darkness, the patch of green grass appears… and Tim League and Polly Platt return to the center of attention.
Polly tells us the key reason the film took so long to come out on Video and DVD was that the music was so expensive for Video and DVD rights that it just was a hell of negotiating and paying out that made it possible.
A question about Bob Surtees’ cinematography and contribution to the film comes up and Polly relates a very funny story. You know the scene that starts in the classroom as the kid is looking out the window to see two dogs fucking? Well, Robert was a classy guy and when the scene came up to shoot, he refused to shoot it. He just thought it was too crude a metaphor for hormones. He didn’t see the point of shooting dogs fucking. So he walked off set. It turns out that Polly had been studying how Bob worked the camera and so she went over and operated the camera. So – there you have it, if you ever wondered who shot two dogs fucking in Archer City… that would be Polly Platt – not multi-Academy Award winning cinematographer Robert Surtees. Bob also purportedly wanted to shoot THE LAST PICTURE SHOW in color, he felt it would be so much better, but didn’t get that The Last Picture Show was about the death of small towns and movies – and black & white – and heroes and innocence and friends.
Next someone asked Polly about where they shot the Pool Hall, and she said that she used the old DOMINO CAFÉ for the pool hall. Apparently it was perfect as was. All she had to do was build a false wall to throw pool balls through.
Somebody asked about how they chose the films that were screened and referenced in the theater itself – if they were in Larry’s book – or did they just pick them. The answer was that the films were picked by Peter and Polly and they represented very specials meanings to them. FATHER OF THE BRIDE represented the height of solidarity in terms of the American Family and life. Whereas RED RIVER represented the death of the west.
After the film – I left out the front door of the Royal Theater, went past the pool hall, the greasy spoon restaurant… then our car was parked in front of the Spur Hotel. The same one you see in the movie. That blinking red light at that intersection – that’s the turn I made – and the light I saw perhaps 700 times or so that I drove to Wichita Falls. There’s a weird thing about life, it always returns you to your roots at some point. Had anyone told me I’d be attending a screening 30 miles from my ranch – with the coolest Austin folks I know – and having a helluva great time in Archer City. I would have looked at them like they were crazed maniacs. But then – if anyone told me I’d be able to wirelessly connect from my ranch to the internet… I would have just laughed and laughed.
All in all this was a great opening to this awesome trip. So far my nephew and father have been stung by a swarm of Africanized Killer Bees, our front license plate apparently fell off our new Dodge Durango somewhere outside Lampasas, Texas we think…. And after The Last Picture Show – Father Geek and I stayed up driving all night. We drove all the way into New Mexico to spend the night in Lovington, New Mexico at the Lovington Inn. As I’m posting this I’m in Roswell, a whole day a head of schedule, but then that’s a story for another day. Tomorrow is IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE and the kitschy joy of Roswell. See y’all then, this is Harry saying good night from the rolling roadshow!
