The highlight of the festival that year had to have been Ramis himself, who was in attendance for three main reasons: to receive the Screenwriter’s Tribute, to premiere his new film Year One, and to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Ghostbusters. As someone who grew up with Ghostbusters, was completely transfixed by the multilayered themes and messages of one of my all time favorites Groundhog Day, and depended on Analyze This for more than one DVD date night, it was a particularly meaningful few days for me.
First of all, I was tasked to be on the team blowing up the actual 25 foot Stay Puft Marshmallow Man that was used to market Ghostbusters when it premiered in 1984. Come on—does it get any cooler than that? This float dominated the skies, and stared out at the Atlantic from Siasconset’s Casino theater on the south side of the island. Getting Mr. Stay Puft to cooperate was a challenge, but somehow the group was able to cross the streams and get him into his new 2009 role as Mr. Stay Put. As guests arrived for a special screening of a brand new 35mm print of the film, he greeted them to their awe and delight.
I met Ramis during the screening of Year One, while I was in the front entryway waiting for the film to end. With everyone seated in the theater watching the movie, Ramis stepped out some point near the middle to have some time to himself. Year One turned out to be not one his better movies (4.9 on IMDB, a 14% on Rotten Tomatoes), so perhaps the typical “director in the back gauging the audience reaction” wasn’t necessary in his mind. Factor in how many times he must have seen the film while editing, and perhaps it’s easy to understand why he would be stepping out. Whatever the reason, Ramis chose a wooden bench by the ticket booth, and got involved with some game or texting activity on his phone—I can’t recall which, though if I had to guess I’d say some kind of game.
After a few minutes of this he took a brief nap, but must have had some internal clock wake him about 10 minutes before the end of the film. As he looked around, no phone in hand, I thought “if I’m ever going to talk to him this would be the chance,” so I did.
It’s amazing how cool and collected you can head into a conversation with someone of his stature, and then completely out of character get all tongue twisted once you started speaking. That was me, but fortunately I found my steady voice before we got to a level of embarrassment. He smiled as I sputtered, knowing we both knew he was being very gracious to let me occupy some of his time, something no doubt countless fans and filmmakers had done before. I think he was amused not by the fact that I was trying to tell him how much I respected his work, but more by the direction I took our talk, which he seemed surprisingly engaged by.
After the pleasantries and unnecessary gushing, I finally got to what I thought would be the most relevant and purposeful discussion I could come up with on the spot. I asked him if he thought film as we knew it would survive. Did he feel the access digital video gave filmmakers, with its ease, price, and increasing quality, would implode the professional market, and ultimately for those reasons overcome “Hollywood” looking content? Would the storytelling suffer? Would the good stuff be able to compete with quality gear getting so cheap, and the potential noisy flood of bad content springing up online more every day? And more so, would there even be a career in film by the time I “made it,” if that time ever came?
He thought for a moment, and after reflecting on this told me that while the technology had changed in the past few decades, the core of filmmaking, the very root of motion pictures, was in capturing and telling a good story. “We can’t stop the way society is changing this profession,” he said, “so while it may become harder to get your work in front of large audiences, or into traditional theaters, or to get your film backed by a big studio so you can make the big bucks, in the end whoever can adapt and embrace the circumstances best will come out okay. If you love making films, just keep making films.”
He asked me what I had done to advance my career, so I told him about starting Green Lens Media, and about making my first feature in high school years ago under a SAG student contract. He reiterated that while film as a format and industry would change, there would always be room for new stories and new filmmakers, who yes, could make careers of it if they worked hard enough for it. It was a sobering thing to hear that the industry I’d been pursuing for nearly a decade at the time was, according to this Hollywood insider, bound to be different, but also refreshing that he was so optimistic about its future considering.
I was fortunate to get to hear this insight from Ramis, and it stuck with me despite the many other speaking events I saw him at throughout the festival. Most people wanted answers to things like “what was it like working with Bill Murray,” and “what’s the funniest thing that happened behind the scenes on such-and-such movie?” It’s sometimes easy to forget while starstruck that these are just people after all; people who, of course, are talented, but are also hard-working and even a little lucky. They might be able to point to a particular instance where they were in the right place at the right time to catch some opportune “break,” but isn’t that just something that would have happened eventually another way anyway, if not that way? In other words, if you work hard enough, if you “just keep making films,” eventually that lucky break will find you.
Thanks, Harold, for all of your comedic genius for the time you were here. Thank you for your reassurances about the film business, and for believing in film’s future, as murky as it seems sometimes. I’d like to think that when we see an Egon hard at work inventing something, or a Dr. Sobel trying to figure out how to not die this time, or a Phil Connors making humor when there was none despite a desperate situation, there is in each instance an inevitable and eventual hope that evolves at some moment into something we have been looking forward to. It’s a great message, one that I and other filmmakers are inspired to see and be reminded of. You will be greatly missed, and I wish you all the best on your journey as I continue down mine, and continue making films.
On a side note, if you ever care to haunt GLM (especially our scriptwriting software), that would be just fine; I promise you would be given Slimer status (the endeared, free-to-roam friend Slimer, not streamed-into-the-Trap Slimer).
All the best,
Adam
Leave a comment! What are some of your favorite Harold Ramis movie moments, and what is your opinion on the future of the film industry?
