Bognar and Reichert's most recent effort, the 40-minute-long The Last Truck, follows the closing of GM's assembly plant in Moraine, Ohio, and was shown as an invited film at this weekend's Full Frame fest. Bognar and Reichert's other work includes A Lion in the House, a three-and-a-half hour epic that followed five familes through six years of cancer treatment.
Following is a more or less complete transcript of our interview with the filmmakers.
Edgers also revealed that his film's music licensing cost $25,000 and that he lost $15,000 on an interview with Paul McCartney that the Sir Paul later blocked him from using. Then there was a short set with local tribute band The Kinksmen, who were joined by local jangle-popsters Peter Holsapple, Chris Stamey and Mitch Easter.
Here is the full text of Indy writer David Klein's interview with Edgers, which was published in abbreviated form in our print edition.
Independent Weekly: It kind of struck me as almost a benevolent rock’n’roll Roger & Me…Ray & Me.
Geoff Edgers: I wasn’t trying to be Michael Moore. I mean, this is the Kinks, it’s not GM There’s no wrong for me to fight for, for the people. It’s really just about a fan wanting to get a band back together.
I just meant the setup of one person’s unlikely quest to reach someone who’s really hard to pin down.
But I think you’re right though. Morgan Spurlock or Michael Moore, very similar in many ways. One big difference: I didn’t direct this movie. I had somebody who directed it.
Was it a hard sell, getting this director [Robert Patton-Spruill] who is not a Kinks fan, or did he just see what you were getting at immediately?
No, it was not a hard sell. He was into following me, while I was into the Kinks. And so the fact that we couldn’t get the Kinks to cooperate in a typical way meant that we had to figure out a way to make a compelling movie. And Rob is a storyteller, and he was equipped to do that. And it’s not like we didn’t use Kinks music. And I paid the licensing for that stuff. We used more Kinks music than any other movie I know of.
We’re less than two weeks away from the Art to Wear (A2W) show at N.C. State’s Reynolds Coliseum, and we’ll take a look at two designers who are preparing their collections for the show.
Hannah Goff, a fashion development major at N.C. State’s College of Textiles (COT), found out about A2W when she attended the show as a freshman. Goff is an old hand at participating in fashion shows: She also designed for the eco-fashion recycling project MorLove, founded by fellow COT student Mor Aframian, and last year’s A2W.
Goff works in a room at her house near St. Mary’s Street. Her studio contains a rack hanging with various pieces in progress, along with originally drafted pattern pieces tacked onto the wall near her sewing machine. Goff’s inspiration stems from reading Frankenstein in an English literature class during the fall semester. Even though she’d read the work previously in high school, the late-1700s setting and the Georgian-era styles resonated with her.
“My main concept is taking these pieces, these scraps and making them [into garments] like Victor created the creature,” Goff said, seated on her couch. On the adjacent wall, a mannequin wearing a pieced-together floor-length dress serves to illustrate the point.
She started working on her collection over Christmas break, and had half of her first outfit done by the beginning of spring semester. She’s aiming to send seven or eight looks down the runway.
Also looking to his studies for inspiration is Kirk Smith. However, while Goff’s influences are in the humanities, Smith draws ideas from his food science curriculum. His collection centers on a typical college student’s diet.
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There’s just one problem with that second scene in Act II of Sty of the Blind Pig, Phillip Dean's 1971 Chicago domestic tenement drama which closed with an Easter Sunday matinee at Burning Coal’s Meymandi Theater. When a scene works as fiercely as that one does, you want every other moment in the show to be just as memorable.
Alberta, the largely joyless adult daughter of self-righteous busybody Weedy Warren, is recalling the funeral of her friend, Emmanuel Fisher. Since Alberta has the gift of oratory, she speaks the obituaries of the dead at their services. But this recounting, to an itinerant musician named Blind Jordan, is actually her confession to a deep attraction she felt—but never acted on—to a man who might have been the love of her life.
At first self-composed as she reads Fisher’s obituary, Alberta becomes increasingly moved as she re-envisions the funeral service, and re-sees the beautiful man in the coffin. Ultimately weeping, shouting and all but crazed with deepest grief and loss, Alberta first bends and then breaks under the weight of her emotions.
To watch Stephanie Lovick undergo that moment, under Dawn Formey’s direction, is to witness true catharsis: to see a character throw herself, as if from a cliff, into the deepest emotions—and then find the most unlikely redemption at the end of it all. It’s an all too rare experience in the theater. I was glad I was there to witness it.
Unfortunately, though, a moment that true tends to place the moments that aren’t in high contrast—which included the rest of Ms. Lovick’s performance on Friday night.