The Manhattan Movie Maniac (referred to hereafter as MMM) never received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Film and Television from UCLA. Nor did he go on to post graduate work at the Maurice Kanbar Institute of Film and Television at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. Following this, MMM did not obtain a Master of Arts Journalism degree from Columbia University.
He didn’t become the movie critic for the New York Times and was never put into syndication in 200 papers worldwide in six languages. He has never served on the Board of Governors for Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and, in truth, does not even know who this people are, why they pick the year’s ‘best’ movies and why we listen when they tell us in an exasperatingly long telethon every damn year!
The MMM doesn’t live in Manhattan. Nor does he live in Queens, Brooklyn or even Staten Island. He doesn’t live in Syracuse (why would he want to? J/K) or Albany (he may, however, pending the outcome of the next gubernatorial elections). No, he doesn’t live in New York, nor has he ever visited New York, unless you count regular viewing of Law & Order. He used to spell it as Knew York until he stopped regarding his spell checker function as a government mind control device (It may still be. Time will tell) He could launch into a long story on why he thought it was spelled this way, but don’t ask. Trust me.
It isn’t just New York that MMM hasn’t visited. In fact, he hardly left his parents’ basement before moving to California to pursue his movie career dreams. He reached the pinnacle, firmly establishing himself as the top Best Boy in the biz, mainly so he could get access to the fantastic catered food that is available on movie sets. However, Hollywood is not kind to funny-looking, socially challenged crew with caustic unappreciated wit and a narcissistic need to share every opinion they have. MMM’s dream of making it in the movie biz and having lifetime access to free catered food slowly withered. Despondent, and moved to tears by the sight of palm trees (they reminded him of evil producers, snooty actresses and the impending collapse of western civilization), he left the industry and crawled north until there were no more palm trees and further north, until there were no trees at all. At last he found peace. Well, a kind of Gollum-like peace, anyway.
Now he claims to live in modified quinsee, though he will not reveal either its location, nor what exactly what a quinsee is. He makes his living by carving tiny polar bears out of what he claims is soapstone (I won’t say what it is, but it is NOT soapstone) and selling them to unsuspecting tourists. The rumor is that after each and every sale he giggles like a schoolgirl and skips away clutching the money in both hands in front of him. He then crawls back into his dark quinsee and watches movies. If you can’t figure out why he has electricity in his quinsee, then you don’t know what a Best Boy is, but congrats on knowing what a quinsee is.
Somewhere along the way (most likely a Planet of Apes convention) a strange being started following MMM around; his first fan. Now, MMM has one friend, Cajun Carl, who has no friends. They have little in common other than a complete lack of social skills and movies…
MMM does watch movies. Good movies. Bad movies. Chick flicks and action pics. Thrillers and Kleenex fillers. Disney and Drama. Films foreign and hardcore p-…ummm never mind about that…that’s a whole different website and is no one’s damn business but his own. He claims its art and will say no more than that. But anyway, he watches lots of movies and ALWAYS has an opinion. Not just on movies either, but trust me, unless you are looking for some kind of Carl Pilkington world view, you are better off just asking about the movies.
The Manhattan Movie Maniac knows movies. Just ask him he’ll tell you.
“There is very little in life that cannot be improved by adding either cheese or chocolate”
-MMM – (2007)
“If your life is unhappy, look in the mirror, not out the window.”
Who is Cajun Carl? Cajun Carl was horrifically scarred in a tragic moonshine accident. Ok, so alcohol is flammable. Now he knows. Today, he kinda looks like a cross between Rosie O’Donnell and Burgess Meredith three days after he died.
Cajun Carl has never had a girlfriend and has never been kissed, unless you count his male cousin b’hind the drive shed, but that was an accident. They both swear it, to this day. Cajun Carl has no friends, no car, no job and no cash but does have is an “apartment” to himself as long as his mom is not taking out the garbage. Carl lives in the enclosed porch of his parent’s doublewide.
Cajun Carl’s prize possessions are his 17″ color TV, that his daddy still calls the “idiot box”, and his combination VHS/Beta collectors’ machine that is never without a movie in progress. Carl’s financial situation, and mutual social ostracism (life is much easier without people dancing around you in circles calling you names) lends itself very well to his jet set lifestyle of doing absolutely nothing but watching movies. Now, Cajun Carl, being Cajun Carl, does not see any movies on DVD which he pronounces “dividuh” since they keep slipping out of his VHS machine every time he puts one in (“What the hell is wrong with these damn things, anyway?).
Cajun Carl is not without some financial resources, however. On the 15th of every month Carl finds a mysterious miracle that proves that God still loves him in the from of something called a “gub-ment” check that allows him to see the occasional Thee-ay-ator picture. He usually slinks into late movies and sits at the very front (Yes, that one guy sitting at the front is probably him)
Although Carl may not always see the most recent pictures, he watches non-stop and has found writing (a new and exciting skill) reviews to be a way to interact with the rest of us. Since Cajun Carl comes from a background where the ability to count past 10 is known as ‘gifted’ and pissing out the window is seen as ‘resourceful’ we should try to encourage Carl. Carl is more literate than you think (somewhere just beyond ‘See spot run.’) and is every bit as articulate as that uppity MMM (Yeah, like that is saying anything).