Lost & Found In Summer 2017

Like Hillary Rodham Clinton in her new and excellent autobiography, as autumn 2017 begins, I'm still sorting out "What Happened" in recent months.

With the Team USA Media Summit starting Monday in Park City, Utah, and a last-minute flight booked from Atlanta to Salt Lake City confirmed Saturday night, it's time to get back in the saddle and write up the Olympic Rings again. 

But first, some Other Things.

Any friend who would listen during recent months knows that last October, after a New York film screening at which Michael Moore spoke to the audience, I met a smaaaart, funny, politically-motivated, curious, kind and beautiful woman while crossing a rainy 56th Street in Manhattan. This younger polyhistor knocked my socks off!

Long story short, we kept in touch through the wires, shared a couple of winter-spring reunion visits (including one upon my return from Paris in May), and eventually traveled together to Chicago, Washington, Long Island and Connecticut while also visiting each other's home bases in Brooklyn, Atlanta and northern New Jersey. 

I could have and should have written many more experiences of summer 2017 -- some Olympic, most not -- had my attention and energy remained on task. 

It didn't. And out of respect for another's privacy and my own, folks won't be reading why (at least not on this blog ... let's just say a potential doozie of a screenplay and book are on the table -- suggestions for a literary agent are welcome as only one comes to mind).

I went little crazy, and got lost. With the help of family and my closest of friends, things are getting back on track. Here's a guy with issues. The array of summer experiences, for better or worse (well, mostly for the better) shed some new light on how to fix them. 

The imagined but unwritten posts June to now include more about Paris, reviews of Glenn Close in "Sunset Boulevard" on Broadway and "Hamilton" at last experienced in The Windy City, a U2 concert at Soldier Field, museum visits to The Met, MoMA, Chicago Art Institute, Cincinnati Museum of Art and the High, sunburn in East Hampton and a D.C. hotel rooftop on the Fourth of July, an all-time Top Five meal at Café Spiaggia, and experiencing world-class tennis and the solar eclipse in Ohio.

A nice surprise in June was the invitation to attend Intel's Olympic sponsorship announcement at Rockefeller Center. 

Discovering a love of exercise, improved diet, weight loss (14 lbs. and counting since July 6) and the joy of cycling also made the summer list. Just no posts.

And the recent five-ringed wins by Paris and Los Angeles for the 2024 and 2028 Olympiads, respectively, were welcome news on which I dwelt but did not scribe except for this post mentioning the IOC's initial announcement finally made official last week.

But I do want to write about one shared experience since its inclusion of filmmaker Moore sort of bookends the summer October 2016 and spring/summer 2017 experiences. It was definitely not "the end" but "the beginning of the end" in my mind with regards to my Garden State-born buddy. 

Opening night of previews for Moore's stage performance of "The Terms of My Surrender" on Broadway took place on Friday, July 28, a lovely pre-serotinal evening that proved to be, at once, extremely frustrating and the launch of a concatenation that still perplexes me two months later. 

I bought a pair of tickets to "Terms" after reading an early report on its inspiration and creative process. It sounded like a fun way to experience Moore again, only this time -- as a gift to my friend -- accompanied by the fellow fan who walked into my life on the October evening that included Moore last year (you see, in our first conversation my friend and I talked about Moore, Hillary, the Obamas, activism and other left-leaning topics in some detail, and it delighted me to find a kindred spirit in politics and our brands of collecting experiences). 

In spite of her strengths, my friend's on-time track record proved to be lousy. I was lucky if she showed up less than two hours late to any one outing we shared.

So on the approach to July 28, we discussed the importance of an early arrival, theater attire and the like. And it was reassuring to read texts with her promises there'd be "no chance" and "no way [she'd] be late for Moore" and the like. 

Optimism reigned. Not only for her pending arrival on the big night, but also for Moore's writing and performance. The New York Times published a piece on preview eve with some encouraging words that suggested a good time might be had by all in attendance. 

Fuck. It wasn't. And, goddamn it, my friend showed up 75 minutes late -- with a bundle of lame and never-confirmed excuses (launching many hunches). I had even built-in an extra pre-curtain hour for a cushion of time, only to be ... foiled again! UGH!

Save a late night meal down the street from the theater, and Moore signing autographs after the show, things were mostly a bust. I spent most of the stage presentation simply fuming in my seat.

Moore posted a video with a bit of his own take after the first night (blogger and guest cameo at the 1:50 mark).

For Michael's part, the show provided a few early moments of promise. When his opening albeit awkward stand-up set shifted to a scene of the filmmaker "unpacking" an array of Trump-inspired airport security troubles, the biggest laughs and audible gasps came when a banned Middle Eastern immigrant popped up out of this suitcase as the visual punchline.

It also was interesting, but not particularly big on laughs, to learn some of Moore's early career achievements in activism. And a positive takeaway -- that any individual may inspire change for the better -- was a message received. There just wasn't much later in the show that proved memorable nor worth writing about further. The evening's celebrity cameo, whom Moore interviewed about current events, was a dud.

The Times' critical review nailed it on other aspects of the show. For a die-hard Moore fan, this could be your bag, baby. For anyone looking to drop $100 or more for a night out on Broadway, take time to find "Book of Mormon" as an alternative (this particular Tony winning show is top of mind writing from a hotel room near "Sal Tlay Ka Siti" in "Oo-tahh").

It took the rest of that late July weekend and the dog days of summer for other relationship particulars to unfurl. Incomplete or simply false information, and plenty of little things, made for some unraveling, revelations and lessons learned. I acknowledge and accept responsibility for my part. Not sure that's going on at the other end of the line.

Blah, blah, blah. Done.

The optimist in me believes the friend mentioned in this post is out there working as hard on her self-improvement projects as this guy is.

The realist in me believes it more likely there's just been "more of the same" running around and procrastination as in June through August. She's better than that and knows it. Get busy working and living is my wish -- I'm not the first to suggest this. And in spite of all that rolled out on our penultimate and last visits, envisioning I'd willingly still offer an ear and support, amics para siempre-style, after a much needed breather. Missing the good parts.

The romantic in me hopes time heals all wounds and something just like this may be possible again, if not with this nuked friendship then with someone with a similar potential for joie de vivre.

The writer and PR pro in me says extensive uphill road work is ahead with a smoother ride and blue skies further down the road.

Lord Huron's lyrics to "The Night We Met" kind of summarizes things.

More to follow from the summit.

Photos by Nicholas Wolaver

Thumbs Up for Michael Moore In Trumpland

After a week of client work travel, last Friday night in Manhattan I decided to check out a new film released last Tuesday.

The title: "Michael Moore In Trumpland." 

Image via Dog Eat Dog Films

The venue: IFC Center in Greenwich Village. 

I first learned about Moore's latest work through the Oscar-winning filmmaker's Facebook page, a favorable criticism in The New York Times and a rave review in New Yorker magazine. 

Informed by these appraisals, expectations were high but in check. 

Moore is one of my all-time favorites -- it's tough to beat the documentary power of the Pets or Meat scenes in "Roger & Me" or the emotional wallop of the Flint, Mich., kindergarten shooting in "Bowling For Columbine." 

One of the last films my mother and I watched together before her ALZ diagnosis was "Fahrenheit 9/11" and during a shared trip to Washington in early 2007 we both screamed/jeered in the direction of The White House, inspired by and much like the film's distraught military mother, Lila Lipscomb, who lost her son in the Iraq War. 

Moore's autobiography (specifically his narration of the audiobook version) is a highlight from several road trips to and from Oklahoma. I'd be delighted if Moore would turn his documentary lens in the direction of the Olympic movement like other great (and sports-minded) documentarians Leni Riefenstahl and Bud Greenspan. 

So, when the couple beside me at IFC Center mentioned they "heard Michael might actually be here" it was exciting. Would he show up?

There was barely time to build anticipation for only a minute later ... there he was! From my seventh row and center seat, I had a clear view of Moore's introduction by the theatre's manager. 

Moore spoke to the audience for about 10 minutes, pausing only to make sure his mobile phone live stream to a theatre in his home state of Michigan was still on the line. The IFC manager held Moore's phone aloft while Moore described the short journey taken to complete his "Trumpland" project.

My eight minute audio recording of his remarks includes a few gems:

"By the end of Thursday, over 100 theatres in 100 cities called us wanting this film in their theatres, so we're gonna make it happen," said Moore. Here's hoping this film will be available in wide release by this coming Friday.

This enthusiastic response was the result of "a zero-inch ad" in The New York Times, indicative that only publicity and buzz is taking this film for a rocket ship ride.  

"To paraphrase Barack Obama, I think one of the things that will save the cinema is if we all have more fierce sense of urgency about it," said Moore. "I really learned a lot in these two weeks about what you can do. No, you are not going to see a lot of car chases or a lot of production value, but this great art form ... especially with documentary, there is nothing wrong with being entertained and to laugh while we are learning."

Moore then explained the timing of the project.

"I did something I had not done before, which is to film myself in a one-man show I wrote. I spent time writing it much of this year."

Moore went on to explain his team secured funding then a performance venue in an Ohio town only to learn the right-minded political machine voted them out of the community. By dumb luck or divine intervention, the team eventually found a new venue in nearby Clinton County and got things moving again, eventually booking "about 750 people" for the live audience. 

"Probably about a hundred, 150 of them are leaning toward Trump," said Moore. "Another couple hundred were people who were thinking of not voting or voting third party."

Additional insights are included in the brief video I captured during Moore's unscripted remarks:

But what of the film itself? Would it live up to the hype spreading online? 

"Let us know what you think of the movie," wrote one of my cousins, in response to my elated Facebook posts from Moore's appearance. 

Image via Dog Eat Dog Films

For this viewer and writer, "Michael Moore In Trumpland" may not be Moore's best work, or his most popular (though opening week stats indicate it's rising like a bullet in cinema stats for documentaries). But I do think it is Moore's most timely, and though its rushed assembly leaves a few rough edges, this film is a crowd pleaser bound to earn a lot of thoughtful discussion and accolades. 

As noted in the aforementioned New York Times review, "Trumpland" is not so much about the real estate tycoon turned presidential candidate. Rather, the name is derived from the Ohio farmland awash in pro-Trump signage as Moore's crew arrived in The Buckeye State. 

What's missing from the new film are the fun soundtrack elements, stock footage and quirky visual setups that typically bring chuckles across Moore's work. There's no cartoon describing "A Brief History of the United States."

But that's OK! Instead of these elements, Moore cleverly establishes a rapport with the Ohio audience, quickly admitting that -- in spite of several floor-to-ceiling photos of a youthful Hillary Clinton as the main stage decorations -- he is not a Hillary fan, but rather a die-hard supporter of Bernie Sanders who had to come to terms with a different candidate earning his party's nomination (like most of, say, the audience members, regardless of their party).

In place of the grin-worthy video clips, Moore sets up two big laughs by introducing the audience members sent to the segregated balcony attendees. On one half of the upper floors, Hispanics are walled in by cardboard bricks, while to their right are several Americans of Middle Eastern descent who have their own "security drone" hovering in the rafters as an eye-in-the-sky protector of all other audience members. 

I don't want to spoil one of the most poignant moments of the film, so let's just say a very surprising Hillary supporter makes a cameo appearance that left my New York theatre audience, and the Ohio attendees in the film, audibly gasping (perhaps worth the entire price of admission). From here Moore goes to work building a case, much like that faux-brick wall upstairs, reasoning why more voters should give Mrs. Clinton serious consideration before Nov. 8. Moore makes this case very succinctly and without put downs nor yelling about her opponents. And his crescendo that calls out many of Hillary's worst "crimes" again and again is hysterical. 

Image via Dog Eat Dog Films

Like many of Moore's other documentaries, "Trumpland" is a thinking persons' film; it's not for everyone, but like "Bowling For Columbine" or "Sicko" and "Where To Invade Next" it is perhaps intended for everyone and should be entertaining and informative for anyone with the same open mind they profess to possess.

I found myself disagreeing with Moore more often during this film than some of his previous work, but "Trumpland" earned my respect for its ability to inform without insulting its opposition. Perhaps Moore does not write as sharply as Aaron Sorkin in "The American President" or "The West Wing" but Michael does play in the same ballpark as, say, Sorkin's monologue for "Newsroom." 

Should folks see "Michael Moore In Trumpland" soon, before the election? Absolutely! And I hope they savor and enjoy it, but more importantly, talk about it with friends, co-workers or anyone planning to vote. 

After the film I asked the theatre manager to share Moore's publicist details, and submitted a phone interview request. No response so far, but I'm ready with a few questions should that welcome call arrive. 

Photos by Nicholas Wolaver unless otherwise captioned for Dog Eat Dog Films.

With All This Talk About Motown ...

In the wake of Michael Jackson's death, the [usual for a celebrity of his calibre] cavalcade of tribute programming is flashing on the TV.

I've heard more about Motown and Detroit in the last 48 hours than perhaps the last year, save the near-daily news updates about the challenges faced by the U.S. auto industry.

With all this talk about Motown, and also thanks to a recent refresher course in online search techniques, this week I stumbled upon a handful of blogs mentioning a lengthy promotional video created in Detroit for the city's failed Olympic bid for the 1968 Summer Olympic Games.

I first heard about Detroit's Olympic aspirations while connecting on flights to and from Beijing last summer. Must admit, asked myself "for the summer Games, or winter?"

As pointed out by http://www.autoblog.com/ in their June 15 post, this summer Olympic bid film fails on several fronts. In addition to leaving out any mention of the Motown music industry, there are some surprising (albeit indicative of the era in which it was filmed) elements that were intended to showcase the city's diversity (unfortunately, shifted into an incorrect gear a time or two).

Another manner in which this film backfired: It is just plain boring!

C'mon! Even President Kennedy (around the 15 minute mark in the film) looks bored out of his mind reading a prepared statement to the voting members at the IOC Session. His gruff closing "thank you" is perhaps telling of where the bid fit in his list of priorities.

I expect members of the International Olympic Committee selection team for 1968 kept copies of this film on the ready in case of acute insomnia. The narration does not at all convey whatever "excitement" the city had for hosting the Games. Even newsreels of earlier times, whether true or fictional, had more pep. I'm anxious to find a copy of Mexico City's Olympic bid film for a comparison.

Fortunately, in spite of losing to Mexico's capital for the 1968 Olympic duties, some of Detroit's hometown auto brands did go on to sponsor the Olympic Movement in gigantic ways. I still remember spotting the auto industry Olympic ads during the 1980s.

During the summer of 1989, while volunteering for the U.S. Olympic Festival coming to Oklahoma City, I was part of a team of 100 or so drivers who created an Olympic photo opp involving 100 new cars from the General Motors plant in OKC (one of many P.R. moves learned in my pre-public relations career days). We parked 100 cars -- each clad with "OLYMPIC" Oklahoma license plates -- in the car plant's parking lot to arrange an "OK89" logo visible from local news helicopters.

GM also sponsored the Olympics (as do other import car brands) throughout the last several years, until they nixed global sponsorship (again, back to http://www.autoblog.com/).

Except by living vicariously through Michael Moore's great documentary films (new release on Oct. 2, the same day of the IOC vote for 2016), KISS songs (which reminds me, check out the REAL "Rock City," a former Edelman client of mine, here), Eminem's big screen debut (yo!), a popular Harrison Ford murder mystery film, and aforementioned Michael Jackson videos, I've only experienced Detroit via the city's modern airport -- there's no better spot for a pre-flight margarita than Detroit's vast international terminal (though the south of the border restaurant in LAX's Tom Bradley International Terminal gives DTW a run for it's money). I do hope to explore Detroit's architecture and cultural hubs -- some mentioned in the Olympic bid film -- and visit Detroit in the future.

Would like to think Detroit's non-selection as the first Great Lakes candidate will only contribute to Chicago's 2016 Olympic bid success. Fortunately, the Chicago 2016 Olympic bid videos feature a bit more excitement and drive (as does President Obama's pitch video for the bid)!

(photo cropped from image similar to one at http://olympianartifacts.com/ and via pages of "The Perlow Guide to Olympic Bid Pins")