What ignited my love for movies?
Something about make believe, emotion, and a good story. And Rich Buffa.
My dad. In a nutshell, that’s the easiest answer.
When people ask me where I got my movie buffness from, or where the match was lit, the answer is the same. Richard Bryan Buffa, retired X-Ray technician and longtime movie lover.
The oldest, most vivid memories of my childhood are coming home from school, and deciding which movie to see. The Everyday section from the Post Dispatch would be ripped open, four eyes scouring for the right showtime and film to see. What could we get away with seeing, a movie mom wouldn’t be mad that a 7-8 year old saw. We could be going to Kenrick, Esquire, or Des Peres. Where we were going, realistic roads and tales weren’t necessary.
Movies were our first sweet spot. I saw PG-13 and R-rated movies before it was fundamentally fit for a kid my age, but my parents trusted that I wouldn’t go to school the next day in a black leather coat, telling the teacher that “I’ll be back.”
If you’re lucky, you become your dad’s best friend. If you’re really lucky, that happens at a very young age. I am a momma’s boy in many aspects, but it was impossible to separate my dad and me. It went from a father and son attending movies to a couple friends heading to the theater to be weird together. We’d ramble before the movie started, pointing at the screen while saying, “it’s that one guy!” One was 6 foot 4 and loomed like a skyscraper, while the other was much shorter yet didn’t miss much. That was us.
But if there was one movie that changed the game for me, it was Michael Mann’s “Heat.” Starring two cinema titans on screen together for the first time in their respective careers-Al Pacino and Robert De Niro-the movie was an enthralling crime saga that took place in Los Angeles. The cast was superb and the style with which Mann created that world stuck to my brain instantly. I saw it twice at the Esquire, the gunfire bouncing off the walls of theater #4 like they did in downtown Los Angeles during filming.
But it was the duality of Mann’s story that dug into my heart. Everybody talks about the bank robbery escape and ensuing shootout, and for good reason. It’s arguably the greatest action sequence of all time, featuring some of the most electrifying sound work in film.
However, the two scenes that took cinema to a higher place for me were the quieter scenes with the two leads. Pacino and De Niro sitting in Katie’s Diner (now closed), a pair of fellas on opposite sides of the law shooting the primary shit while their respective teams get set for a clash.
Even when Pacino’s Vincent Hanna shoots a threat towards De Niro’s Neal McCauley’s direction, there’s a respect between the two men. The antagonist isn’t evil, just a guy pulling scores that he’s very good at and can get away clean from with loads of cash. The protagonist isn’t perfect himself, on the down slope of a third marriage and managing a cocaine habit (not shown on film but confirmed by Mann.)
This scene set up the final scene of the movie, which involved the same two men. Two men who understood life and its rigors and rewards. Two men who could see eye to eye while being against each other. It took the hate out of a conflict, all the while making it intense and riveting at the same time.
The last shot, a fatally wounded Neal reaching with his hand out for Vincent’s hand after being shot three times by the Lieutenant next to an airport runway, wouldn’t be described properly with the mere mention of “powerful.” In any other movie, this is melodramatic or done poorly. It wouldn’t work. Mann made it poetic and wholly emotional, making the viewer see a cop and robber conflict in a different light.
Why do I love movies so much? The same reason that Tom Hanks once gave. The world can make you feel very lonely at times, and the movies are a comforting respite to that reality-even with great parents. Those great parents had to work, so I would walk a few blocks down to an old (now closed) theater called the Avalon.
It looked like the ancient yet still classy movie house featured in the underrated Arnold Schwarzenegger action comedy, “Last Action Hero.” Most days, I was the only soul in the building, chewing on licorice ropes and popcorn. On certain days, the admission was only a nickel.
Question: Why did I see Jean Claude Van Damme’s low brow yet entertaining “Nowhere to Run” nine times?
Answer: Nickel shows and Rosanna Arquette’s unconventional beauty.
The movies weren’t just an escape for me. They weren’t just a place to get away from young bullies teasing me about my last name or making fun of my stutter all day at school. They were a sanctuary. Where life could slow down and all the noise could stop, and a screen would change from dark to light and bright.
What people forget about with movies are the private collaboration you have with yourself while watching them. You aren’t seen or heard from, only having too much fun in your own head. It’s a time for you, and you only.
As I got older, I became fascinated with how real movies actually were--at least the intention for making them, and the passion and empathy that came with viewing them. The behind the scenes process became kettle corn theater for me. The bones of a production, or how an unlikely person made it big by betting big on himself.
Sylvester Stallone was the million to one shot actor when he pitched producers the “Rocky” script. He was Rocky. John Travolta was down and out before Quentin Tarantino wrote him Vincent Vega. Liam Neeson became an action star because his kids liked it and it was a way for him to not think about his deceased wife, Natasha Richardson. A stunt man named Chad Stahelski would eventually direct one of the movie stars he doubled for-Keanu Reeves in “The Matrix”-in a low budget, “who knows” production called “John Wick.”
It’s those little things that have strengthened my love for the movies. How they can make you feel, and their ability to rescue a bad day with some laughs and good looks attached.
My dad got me there. Again, if you can be best friends with your dad at a young age-and have a patient superhero for a mother-the possibilities are endless even in a messed up and often brutal world.
The movies were, and continue to be, my sanctuary. Thanks for the terrific question, Rene Knott.