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Brick is the first movie I drove to Chicago to see. West Lafayette, Indiana does not show independent films unless they break big. I remember we had Garden State, and that was the smallest movie in my town the entire time I was in college. What a “college town” I lived in.
Back to Brick: I had heard so many good things about it, especially about the directing, that I wanted to make sure I was a part of this movie, and not in the “watch it on DVD” or “get it from the internet” way (Bittorrent was still new and exciting then!). So I rounded up my friend and we drove the two hours to Chicago, where it seemed like every theater was showing it. We walked down lower Wacker, someone tried to sell me a copy of The Onion, and I got the sense that here was a much better place than where I was. I’m always going to remember sitting in that great, dark, red velvet room with a giant screen and feeling the entire audience go silent as we all cringe and worry at a shot of the LA river. The long drive home was heavy, satisfied and full of small conversations about little things and details. We didn’t feel ready to go after the meat of the movie. That came later.
I recently met Rian Johnson. I didn’t say this, because it’s so dweeby, but I wanted to and should have: You made a piece of art. It sticks with me and I still go back and mull things over about it. Thank you.
