1619 Project - Part 3
Prologue
Sorry for the delay! It’s been a bit busy… “American Santa” had its premiere at the Provincetown Film Festival, which is a great great great fest in a fantastic town. I’d only once before been to P-Town, in college, and I got thrown in a pool. This time was remarkably more fun. The vibe of the place is really just as my friend Anne summed it up - “it’s like, my dad has a barn, let’s put on a show.” And as for our shows, we had great audiences who stuck around for Q & As afterward. We also got to see many dear friends, some with films in the festival, some there just to watch, and still another to be honored (ahem… see below).
Outside of all this, and as we begin to ready the film for further showings and an exciting offer to distribute it(!!!), I just returned from Kingston, Jamaica where I was sound supervising a dance-related documentary series. Yes, I took a selfie with Sean Paul. Yes, I ate jerk everything. And yes it was hot. But as a lifelong listener of ska, rocksteady, reggae, and dancehall, I got to finally check that box off the list and you can bet I’ll be back and, of course, it’ll make its way into this publication at some point.
But let’s get back to the other hot place I was telling you about - Alabama…
Project: 1619 Project
Cast of Characters:
Nikole - Creator / EP
Shoshana - EP
Christine - Director
Tony - Director of Photography
Yusuke - Camera
Cesar - Gaffer
Naimah - Producer
Quinton - Producer
September 09, 2021
For the love of chamomile
Apparently, Rodney's BBQ didn't rate for some people. Fine by me - take me to the river.
This morning, as I sipped my chai, I was awakened by a tinge of heat up the back of the throat. Cinnamon. Some milk. A heady and earthy scent, like rustling paper and ink, like gently sifting soil, like the scent of old books, old photos, old vases, old metals. And I thought, yes, here I am, awake, in Birmingham, and like chai itself - I felt for a moment as if we were standing at the crossroads of empires. But then I came to as I watched scores of unmasked folks dressed in business casual, checking in for some kind of meeting, buzzing about HR specialists. What empire is this, I wondered, while Cesar leaned on the window and Yusuke had two meals and four bananas. An empire in decline.
At the house, we set up and it was noted, on the record, that Tony was ready to roll by 11:00 AM. Indeed, I could see that he was as ready as the dreams of the people whose minds he slipped into. Nikole let it be known that her basil lavender latte was all that. Then, she and Jennifer got in their seats and we got down to the business of Amazon, Bezos, and unionization. Jennifer explained all about the five flights of stairs, the cameras everywhere, the value of work, getting out of jail only once, getting benefits through the front door, and being robbed out the back. Time off task? Bathroom breaks? A fair union vote? Not happening.
Of course, it was also humid, and the sound of air conditioners blended with the cicadas, creating an insecto-mechanical orchestra of background sound. But not nearly as bad as yesterday, and for that, we gave silent thanks.
And then, lunch. I barely glanced at the menu when I saw Naimah's choice of the romaine and spinach salad with steak. That's it, I thought. Perfect. I immediately copied the order and sent it in. Well, I had imagined that at this point in the report, I'd be glowing about the blend of flavors, the perhaps a bit too salty yet tender meat, the fresh greens. But I made a critical error by not looking at the menu.
The dish specifically states that it comes with avocado. And I'm allergic to avocado. Not in the throat-closing-up-take-me-to-the-ER type of allergic, but more like the ohmygodImbeingstabbedinthestomachfourthousandtimes type. I thought I had parried the offense by picking out the evil green chunks but I'm pretty sure the steak was slathered in it. So, about an hour later, as we were headed toward Publix, I felt the first pang of regret, right in the belly. It was a slow crawl starting distant and small. Then, all at once, it was as if a bomb went off. It was as if I'd been slammed in the stomach by a pile driver. The pain was like an elephant standing on my stomach. Yusuke left to shoot some B-roll and I tried to meditate on the quality of my pain... Like a distant cry from a pit where horses once starved to death. Long story short - thankfully Quinton liberated all the teabags from the AirBnB which included the antidote - chamomile. After cold-brewing about 32 ounces of said flower and some alone time in the car, I got over the ordeal.
Back at the church, Tony and Christine rehearsed the walk, and there was rain, and there were umbrellas. Nikole then arrived, with new shoes, and reminded us why she's the host. Why make it look like we're going into the church? The gaze is all we need. Bird is the boss. Then we went into the park and I recorded the Alabama cicadas. These are different from Iowa cicadas... Harsher. How can I put it? It sounded like a thousand fingers walking across a million Italian tiles, never stopping, never letting up. Relentless, almost angry, like dozens of underfed lumberjacks using two-man saws trying to fell an entire forest.
We finished under the waning sun and were treated to a visceral retelling of the civil rights movement in Alabama by a local activist and former footsoldier. Protest brings attention to a problem. And then, sunset. It smoldered over the horizon., glowing a watery salmon orange. The sun bent across the horizon like a fisherman's palm across the surface of a lake. The last rays stretched to infinity, and the surface of the world ceased to reflect them. Soon, the light was gone, and shadows lay across the ground like a pool of melting blood. Jacked-up cars cruised the avenue as the cicadas continued to laugh. A muffled roar of engines, a whisper of tires on the asphalt, the crunch of gravel. We got it.
Dinner was delicious. Thank you.
Previously in Provincetown…
“First you smile, then you serve.” - Billy Porter
Oblique Strategy Of The Day
“Put in earplugs”
All good thoughts,
Avi