Saturday, June 25, 2005

The Independent Community


www.dangerouscrosswinds.com
Originally uploaded by Broussardish.
Last night, I had the pleasure of hosting the Concord premiere of a locally made independent film: “Dangerous Crosswinds.” The movie was directed by Bill Millios and featured a cast of local actors and bystanders and it was beautifully filmed on locations all over the seacoast. I had seen the filmmaker’s first effort, “Old Man Dogs,” which was a worthy effort and a good first film for a young director. I knew he was serious about his craft and I assumed that this one would be better. And it was a much better movie, though the acting ranged from amateur to professional and the script could have been burnished a little more in a spot or two.

I had just finished working on New Hampshire Magazine’s biggest event of the year, our “Best of New Hampshire Party,” so I hadn’t given my responsibilities much thought. I only had time to scribble down a few notes for my introduction just before the show, then I typed them up to help imbed them in my mind. Public speaking is not my forte. If there are five points I must make, I tend to lose one or two somewhere along the way.

If something occurs to me as I’m speaking I wind up launching off into it, without necessarily knowing how I’ll get back to the point at hand. The point that occurred to me this time, mid-speech, was the irony that something called “independent film” could become such a community project as this movie obviously was. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of volunteers needed to make the movie happen. At my screening, the director of photography, Marc Vadeboncouer, was running the projector. Half the audience was family and friends of cast and crew.

I realized that this is the paradox of New Hampshire in many ways. We are perhaps the most independent-minded state in a country whose very creed declares the word “Independence” in the title. Go to any little New Hampshire town and you’ll detect a sense of self-importance that would seem irrational if not for the fact that every other little town has the very same attitude and doesn’t mind telling you so.

And yet there is a terrific sense of community here in New Hampshire. Selectmen who conduct an annual examination of their town boundaries to make sure the next town hasn’t encroached an inch, are also volunteer EMTs who will drop everything to rush to the aid of someone five towns away. Our Best of New Hampshire Party brought ruggedly independent restaurants and performers and partiers from all over the state together to celebrate and to raise funds for the good work of Big Brothers Big Sister of NH.

Maybe independence is the glue that holds communities together. Maybe, like Robert Frost once wrote, “good fences make good neighbors.”

Movies are probably the great communication medium of our age. If New Hampshire’s stories are to be told, we will need more independent filmmakers like Bill Millios to tell them. It’s good to have him already pointing the way.

Friday, June 24, 2005

A Taste of Vanilla Fudge


Vanilla Fudge
Originally uploaded by Broussardish.
I"m a fan of Seacoast Notes, an e-mail newsletter from SeacoastNH.com, and one recent article particularly caught my eye.

The famous Hampton Beach Casino recently featured a great 1960s group that looms pretty large in my personal musical memories. The first real rock band I ever saw was Vanilla Fudge (I had seen the Lovin' Spoonful but they were more in the pop-folk vein). I was living in Northwest Florida, and the Fudge played a little venue in the closest "city" -- Pensacola. I rode all the way over from Shalimar (about 45 miles) with two other guys. I called shotgun late and wound up riding in the seatless back of an MG Midget. Once there we walked around the place once, no seats, just standing room in a bad hall, I think it was a school "cafetorium." The band began to play their first number (can't even remember what it was) and Mark Stein dove into a power glissando on his keys. Almost immediately he stood up and walked off stage. The band jammed, gamely, in his absence. When they stopped, the crowd started booing and one of the band members told them to shut up, explaining that Mark had cut his hand on a broken piano key. The concert went on without him and was enjoyable enough, though I don't really remember it. I was fixated on a girl I knew from Niceville who was there. When the band finished up it was still pretty early, and the girl's ride hadn't come. We offered her a ride back with us. Since it was my turn to ride shotgun on the way home, she sat in my lap the whole way. This was a memorable episode, as you might expect, for a 16-year-old boy. I still remember the smell of her perfume. And I owe it all to Mark Stein and Vanilla Fudge.

Sorry I didn't know you were coming.

The Fudge, according to SeacoastNH.com, are the longest running rock band still performing with all their original members. Not bad for a one-hit wonder.