meeting Billy Wirth at the St. Louis International Film Festival to see MacArthur Park
shisaiyan reminded me I've never posted about meeting Billy Wirth here. When it happened, I used to have it up on my website, but host changes and redesigns lost the page. For anyone interested, I'll talk about it here, cut to spare those who could care less. It's not a really long story, but I might gush about the movie I watched, too.
Way back in November of 2001, MacArthur Park was set to play at the Hi-Pointe Theater during the St. Louis International Film Festival. I was excited about this because Billy Wirth was the director, and though I'd been a long-time fan of his acting and some of his artwork, I wanted to see him branch out even more.
When I first made my plans to attend, I did not know Billy would be there. The film was playing Friday and Saturday nights. An old roommate of mine, A., was going to meet me in St. Louis on Saturday. I had just started working at Barnes & Noble, and had to open on Saturday morning. I intended to watch the show Saturday night with Amy and that's it.
Friday after class, I was bored and restless and, as a last minute decision, decided to run up to St. Louis on my own. I get more out of movies when I can see them more than once, and I'd been reading reviews of MacArthur Park and was very excited about it.
When I arrived, I was nervous and more than a little shy. I knew members of the Billy Wirth Fanclub would be there, and I wanted to meet up with them, but -- no matter how long we'd been talking online, they were still strangers to me. I lingered outside, smoking to try to calm myself down.
It's a good thing I did, because who came walking up as I finished a cigarette and a phone conversation with L., who is the mother of my godchildren? Billy Wirth. We shared a little grin and really, couldn't quite move at that point.
Eventually I purchased my ticket and made my way inside. I grabbed a seat on the aisle toward the middle-back, my favorite spot to watch a movie. I thought I'd be distracted by Billy's presence, but as soon as the movie started, I was caught up in the story.
It's a good movie, heart breaking and realistic and amazing. I'll talk more about it later, I think. But I forgot Billy Wirth was in the theater, I forgot I had to be at work in just a few short hours, I forgot I was exhausted, and was just completely caught up in the movie. MP is one of the most touching films I'd ever seen at that point. It opens with a montage of scenes of people in and around the park. One of the images that still stands out in my mind is that of the main character pouring water down his face to wake up and clean up a little, because he tries so hard even under the drug obsession.
The entire movie was filled with little images like that which made the most impact: tears in the corners of eyes; birds careening through the air over the park, disturbed by gunfire; the play of light and shadow over faces and bodies. Billy did an incredible job of tying everything together visually. Too often movies present characters like these as one-sided bad guys, but in MP, these homeless, drug-addicted and alcoholic characters have whole lives, desires, fears, and needs. Billy presents them so the audience can empathize and worry and love the characters, despite everything.
After, he did a quick question and answer session. Most of the questions weren't very interesting, but I enjoyed listening to him talk. He looked tired, run down; it's obvious he tries to do too much at once. He looked exhausted, his voice was tired, and he seemed gaunt, as if he'd not had a good meal in awhile. Despite all that, he looked good -- longish hair after so many years of wearing it short, khaki pants, nice shirt, and a neat jacket. He also looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, the poor guy.
I had to cut out pretty quickly after that, because it was already past midnight, I had a two hour drive home, and I had to work at eight a.m., but I was able to say a quick hello to him before I slipped out ahead of the crowd. On the way back to the car, I just kept whispering "I love him" to myself. It's not a love like I feel for J. or Sarah, or the lusty feelings I have for some of Billy's characters, or even a love needing a return of the feelings. Just knowing that people like him exist in the world, that he's real and can touch other people and help them, that was enough. It's more like adoration than love, respect and awe at his creative talents all tumbled together.
I ran on pure exhilaration for the next twenty-four hours. Worked, drove back to St. Louis, met up with A., headed back to the theater. This time wasn't nearly as tense, because I'd already done it once before, and because A. was nervous, so I was the one in charge. This time I went up and introduced us to the fanclub members, especially the wonderful Max, who greeted me as if I was a long lost daughter. She's such a sweet, helpful, caring woman.
We talked quite a bit before the movie. This time they urged us to sit with them, so we sat closer to the front, and Billy set up in the row in front of us. He talked to us all before the movie, and though he still seemed tired, he was very polite and friendly. The question and answer session went better Saturday night; I love listening to him talk and watching his facial expressions. Even tired, he's animated and a good storyteller.
The movie touched me even more the second time through. I particularly noticed the effectiveness of the music. There were moments when the lyrics in the songs fit as if they had been written just for the movie; too, there were moments when the non-lyrical score was phenomenal. When I most wanted to hear the swelling of piano music, there it was. When I ached to be offered the slow strains of jazz, there it was. I couldn't have chosen the music better myself.
Everyone left the theater in a group with Billy (in fact, we were kind of ushered out so they could seat the next show -- SLIFF runs on a tight schedule, I think) and we were all laughing and talking. I was able to talk to Billy one-on-one for a short time, about writing and school. I have pictures of us together and he signed my SLIFF program. I don't think I made too much of a fool of myself, but I was lightheaded and awed the entire time.
He's an amazing person. I knew he was talented and physically gorgeous, but in person, he's so much more than all that. It's almost as if he has an aura around him, and as soon as you get close enough for it to touch you, everything becomes clearer. His presence is soothing even when it made me nervous; he's surrounded by a bubble of caring, politeness, self-confidence -- if you can name it, he's got it.
So, in short -- too late, obviously -- meeting Billy Wirth was something I'm grateful I had the chance to do. I would also suggest watching the movie; it can be heavy at times, but it is wonderful, too, and a good example of characterization used well.
Way back in November of 2001, MacArthur Park was set to play at the Hi-Pointe Theater during the St. Louis International Film Festival. I was excited about this because Billy Wirth was the director, and though I'd been a long-time fan of his acting and some of his artwork, I wanted to see him branch out even more.
When I first made my plans to attend, I did not know Billy would be there. The film was playing Friday and Saturday nights. An old roommate of mine, A., was going to meet me in St. Louis on Saturday. I had just started working at Barnes & Noble, and had to open on Saturday morning. I intended to watch the show Saturday night with Amy and that's it.
Friday after class, I was bored and restless and, as a last minute decision, decided to run up to St. Louis on my own. I get more out of movies when I can see them more than once, and I'd been reading reviews of MacArthur Park and was very excited about it.
When I arrived, I was nervous and more than a little shy. I knew members of the Billy Wirth Fanclub would be there, and I wanted to meet up with them, but -- no matter how long we'd been talking online, they were still strangers to me. I lingered outside, smoking to try to calm myself down.
It's a good thing I did, because who came walking up as I finished a cigarette and a phone conversation with L., who is the mother of my godchildren? Billy Wirth. We shared a little grin and really, couldn't quite move at that point.
Eventually I purchased my ticket and made my way inside. I grabbed a seat on the aisle toward the middle-back, my favorite spot to watch a movie. I thought I'd be distracted by Billy's presence, but as soon as the movie started, I was caught up in the story.
It's a good movie, heart breaking and realistic and amazing. I'll talk more about it later, I think. But I forgot Billy Wirth was in the theater, I forgot I had to be at work in just a few short hours, I forgot I was exhausted, and was just completely caught up in the movie. MP is one of the most touching films I'd ever seen at that point. It opens with a montage of scenes of people in and around the park. One of the images that still stands out in my mind is that of the main character pouring water down his face to wake up and clean up a little, because he tries so hard even under the drug obsession.
The entire movie was filled with little images like that which made the most impact: tears in the corners of eyes; birds careening through the air over the park, disturbed by gunfire; the play of light and shadow over faces and bodies. Billy did an incredible job of tying everything together visually. Too often movies present characters like these as one-sided bad guys, but in MP, these homeless, drug-addicted and alcoholic characters have whole lives, desires, fears, and needs. Billy presents them so the audience can empathize and worry and love the characters, despite everything.
After, he did a quick question and answer session. Most of the questions weren't very interesting, but I enjoyed listening to him talk. He looked tired, run down; it's obvious he tries to do too much at once. He looked exhausted, his voice was tired, and he seemed gaunt, as if he'd not had a good meal in awhile. Despite all that, he looked good -- longish hair after so many years of wearing it short, khaki pants, nice shirt, and a neat jacket. He also looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, the poor guy.
I had to cut out pretty quickly after that, because it was already past midnight, I had a two hour drive home, and I had to work at eight a.m., but I was able to say a quick hello to him before I slipped out ahead of the crowd. On the way back to the car, I just kept whispering "I love him" to myself. It's not a love like I feel for J. or Sarah, or the lusty feelings I have for some of Billy's characters, or even a love needing a return of the feelings. Just knowing that people like him exist in the world, that he's real and can touch other people and help them, that was enough. It's more like adoration than love, respect and awe at his creative talents all tumbled together.
I ran on pure exhilaration for the next twenty-four hours. Worked, drove back to St. Louis, met up with A., headed back to the theater. This time wasn't nearly as tense, because I'd already done it once before, and because A. was nervous, so I was the one in charge. This time I went up and introduced us to the fanclub members, especially the wonderful Max, who greeted me as if I was a long lost daughter. She's such a sweet, helpful, caring woman.
We talked quite a bit before the movie. This time they urged us to sit with them, so we sat closer to the front, and Billy set up in the row in front of us. He talked to us all before the movie, and though he still seemed tired, he was very polite and friendly. The question and answer session went better Saturday night; I love listening to him talk and watching his facial expressions. Even tired, he's animated and a good storyteller.
The movie touched me even more the second time through. I particularly noticed the effectiveness of the music. There were moments when the lyrics in the songs fit as if they had been written just for the movie; too, there were moments when the non-lyrical score was phenomenal. When I most wanted to hear the swelling of piano music, there it was. When I ached to be offered the slow strains of jazz, there it was. I couldn't have chosen the music better myself.
Everyone left the theater in a group with Billy (in fact, we were kind of ushered out so they could seat the next show -- SLIFF runs on a tight schedule, I think) and we were all laughing and talking. I was able to talk to Billy one-on-one for a short time, about writing and school. I have pictures of us together and he signed my SLIFF program. I don't think I made too much of a fool of myself, but I was lightheaded and awed the entire time.
He's an amazing person. I knew he was talented and physically gorgeous, but in person, he's so much more than all that. It's almost as if he has an aura around him, and as soon as you get close enough for it to touch you, everything becomes clearer. His presence is soothing even when it made me nervous; he's surrounded by a bubble of caring, politeness, self-confidence -- if you can name it, he's got it.
So, in short -- too late, obviously -- meeting Billy Wirth was something I'm grateful I had the chance to do. I would also suggest watching the movie; it can be heavy at times, but it is wonderful, too, and a good example of characterization used well.