So I went to the Harvard Exit last night for a screening of Mark Wexler's Tell Them Who You Are, his warts and all documentary about his irascible father, Oscar-winning cinematographer Haskell Wexler (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf). Midway through programmer Adam Hart's introduction, some yobbo near the front rudely interrupted to say he was there to watch a film and didn't need to be told what to think about it. Well, the crowd murmured their disapproval. From the expression on his face, it looked as if Hart might've thought we were muttering about him. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, a guy to my right yelled, "Just ignore the boorish man!" but Hart was visibly rattled, so he wrapped up his comments, beat a hasty retreat and the film commenced. I just wanted to mention the incident because I thought it was incredibly rude and made a lot of us uncomfortable. Alas, this gentleman--and I use that term lightly--has indulged in this sort of behavior before. A couple of years ago, Kathleen Murphy was attempting to introduce a film at the secret fest that had personal meaning for her. That same guy--grey hair, British accent--busted in to tell her (and his captive audience) that he didn't need to be told what to think. Murphy paused for a second and went on. It wasn't what she had been doing; nor had Hart.
So here's a hearty Bronx cheeer for the boob!
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