PAUL DAWSON (see cast) writes from Taipei, Taiwan:The UK premiere of
Shortbus at the 50th BFI London Film Festival a few weeks back marked a kind of coming full circle for me. It was at this festival exactly fifteen years ago, during a year I lived in London, that I saw
My Own Private Idaho for the first time. Although in different ways, the
movie--and particularly River Phoenix--was as influential to me as it was to my character James, particularly at an age when I was searching hard to find a character I could comfortably identify with reflected on screen.
For James, this defining incident occurred in his hometown, but in reality, Idaho didn't play anywhere near the farm where I grew up. It's that out there. So it was an uncanny surprise to get the invitation to represent Shortbus in early November at the Cucalorus Film Festival in Wilmington, North Carolina. Wilmington is a beautiful and historic port city situated between the coast and the Cape Fear River about a hundred miles down the road from where I was born and raised.
The last time I was in Wilmington was, ironically, just after that year I spent in London. Wanderlust ignited, I embarked on my first cross-country road trip from there, coast to coast via
Interstate 40, commencing with a swim in the Atlantic at Carolina Beach. London had left me with little patience for the limited vistas I was reared among, and I was eager to continue my quest for new visions of myself.

Wilmington's festival takes its name from a film set apparatus more commonly known as a "cookie." A
cucalorus is a perforated plate placed in front of a spotlight in order to create a patterned lighting effect on a subject or background. The grassroots festival, now in its
12th year, has earned its name screening an array of films not likely to make it to the local Cineplex.
I have watched
Shortbus in seven countries now (I write this from Taiwan), and I have grown pretty relaxed sharing the experience with audiences. But when the lights dimmed in Wilmington's
Thalian Hall, just past midnight on Remembrance Day, I was trembling. My best friend from high school was sitting right next to me in the gloriously ornate theater, which dates to before the Civil War. As stragglers searched for seats--even the two wraparound balconies packed to the rafters--my friend pointed out something a couple rows in front of us that sent time backward for me: two young men who had come to the film together but had left an empty seat between them so that no one might mistake them for
together together.
"Those guys aren't going to make it past the first ten minutes," I whispered.
When James appeared on screen, I saw something that I hadn't yet seen in some dozen viewings of the film: a freak. I was suddenly looking at myself through the eyes of the people around me, or at least as I perceived them to be seeing me--the same way I had viewed myself through adolescence.
"Home," as the ex-mayor of New York says, "can be very unforgiving." The sound system was primitive, but that line has never resonated so loudly for me.
In spite of the low volume, the audience was rapt. The only time they missed a line was when they were howling too loudly from the moment before. Nervous laughter, I suppose. Our discomfort would mount to a bursting point, and then the film would throw us something hilarious to release the pressure. I hadn't realized how sublimely John and our outstanding editor Brian Kates had crafted the film to accomplish this.
It was even easing my own tension. Hearing my old friend laughing next to me, I recalled riding to school with him, doubled over at the rude lyrics we would make up to pop songs. By the time we reached the closet scene, and James confesses that he is still seeking the same things he was when he was twelve, I was in tears with him. But then, Wilmington is known for its
ghosts.
There were a lot of us who seemed quite stirred in the end. Even the two guys down in front of us stayed for the duration. There was much talk of my "bravery" afterwards, and I recognized that for many, finding a comfortable and honest identity as a gay man remains no easy task.
"I'm afraid it says a person like River and me will never find what he's looking for," I wrote on November 19th, 1991.
There in Leicester Square last month in the very same theater where I had seen
Idaho, I mused what if that younger me could have known that one day I would be here again, so blessed with love and the opportunity to do exactly that which enchanted me so. One thing that growing up where I did taught me is that you have to make and live a reality as great as you can imagine it, even and especially if the rest of the world is not ready for it yet.
--Paul
(visit Paul at
myspace.com/pauldawsonnyc)
-----------
Video of the Day: December Will Be Magic Again by Kate Bush from the BBC's 1979 Winter Snowtime Special
Song of the Day: The Old Main Drag by The Pogues, from the 1985 album Rum Sodomy & the Lash. This brilliant song about drinking, pilling, whoring and dying with the 'he-males and she-males' in the streets of London plays over the end credits of My Own Private Idaho.
-----------
Earl Dax and James Coppola present...
Weekly UNISEX SALON in New York City
next party Thursday Dec, 7th, 10p.m. to 4a.m.
The Delancey, 168 Delancey (btw Clinton & Attorney)
Thanks to all of you that came out to the opening night of UNISEX SALON, the new performance art party at The Delancey in New York City! The night was filled with interesting, creative and diverse people--onstage and off. This coming Thursday, you won't want to miss week 2 of UNISEX as John Cameron Mitchell works the turntables, and Murray Hill hosts a midnite Performance Art Gong Show! If you're interested in being a contestant, e-mail earldax@scenedowntown.com. Yes, you might get gong-ed, but it's all in good fun. Plus, you'll get to perform before an illustrious panel of judges including Penny Arcade, Douglas Carter Beane and Martha Wilson, the founder of Franklin Furnace. See SceneDowntown.com for details.