George Washington

365 Films

Entry #65

George Washington (1999)

Directed by David Gordon Green

The best way I can think to honor a man I’ve never met but who still had a profound influence on my life is to write about a film that I never would have discovered without his help.  I have written in prior entries about the hours and care that went into watching Siskel and Ebert and all subsequent Roger Ebert television programs starting from the mid-90’s and ending sometime in the early aught’s.  The reason I say care is because the local affiliate in Wilmington, Delaware decided that the appropriate time to air the show was 1:35am on Monday morning.  That meant you had to set up the VCR to timer record and check local listings because sometimes the channel and time of broadcast would switch up at the last minute.  For fun, they would move it to Sunday morning at the last minute and not tell anyone.  Okay, so it’s not like we were without clean drinking water or anything, but still, watching Siskel and Ebert on Monday morning before going to school always made the melancholy of the concluding weekend a little easier to tolerate.  On one particular episode in the fall of 1999, (Siskel had passed away earlier that year) Roger Ebert reviewed a film that displayed the adventurous passion he was rightly known for.  That film was called George Washington and without watching Roger Ebert rave about it on television, I don’t think there was any other way for me to come into contact with such a film.  The internet was around but even if had been a savvy surfer of the net, George Washington did not have a multi platform marketing strategy and I’m almost positive the Wilmington, Delaware demographic never came anywhere near their target markets.  What Ebert did was not only provide the incentive with his words for seeking out the film, but also the images to support his thesis.  I got to see what the film looked like, what it sounded like, and perhaps most important of all to me at this time, who influenced it.  Ebert was so infatuated with this film that he went to great lengths to profile its writer and director, David Gordon Green, practically acting as the man’s unofficial public relations point person.  On the show, Ebert specifically pointed out that Green and his cinematographer Tim Orr were heavily influenced by Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line, even going so far as to say they watched the film over and over again prior to shooting to study the framing, composition, and camera movement.  It was at this moment that my ears perked up and I suddenly became obsessed with seeing this film.  Unfortunately, this would not be the case; I don’t even think the film ever made it to Philadelphia much less Funscape (as it was known back then).  Cut to a year later and I’m on my Thanksgiving break, perusing my local Blockbuster in order to find something to watch over the four and a half day weekend.  I’m scanning the new releases section and sure enough there’s George Washington fully stocked with only three copies on VHS.  I was ecstatic.  Finally, I had the means and ability to see this film that for the past year I could only construct with Roger Ebert’s powerful words and infectious sentiment.  I rush home, pop it in the VCR and I’m immediately transported.  Everything is living up to the film exactly as I had hoped it would.  The imagery is startling, the sound design is hauntingly evocative, and the inexperienced young cast is running circles around the most absurdly rewarded “professional” actors.  I can’t believe how amazing this film is and then…black.  I don’t think I can describe it any other way, half way through the tape, the screen just went black and there was nothing.  Dismayed, I returned to the blockbuster hoping another copy was there and that it was just a bad tape dub or something.  The two other copies are still there and I make a swap, race home, and the EXACT SAME THING happens.  I was crushed.  My newfound respect for Blockbuster stocking such an obscure title was instantly replaced with murderous rage for the shitty quality of the actual tapes themselves.  I know this wasn’t Blockbsuter’s fault but I couldn’t really be mad at anybody else at the time, could I?  Then, an idea hit me: Vics Video Americain! Vic’s was an indie video rental store and supplier of anything and everything in VHS cinematic greatness for the Wilmington, Delaware area.  Surely, where the evil conglomerate Blockbuster had fumbled the ball, Vic would be right there to scoop it up and run it in to the end zone.  I raced over to Vic’s and quickly scanned the shelves looking for George Washington in the new releases section.  Something you should know about me is that I’m a bit on the, shall we say, timid side and Vic is a bit on the, shall we say, imposing side.  He was always very nice and respectful to me but I was only sixteen and very unsure of my cinematic taste.  In other words, Vic definitely knew his shit and the last thing I wanted to do was look like an idiot in front of him.  Shoring up all the courage I could muster, I walk up to Vic’s counter and begin to plead my case in front of him.  To my utter surprise, he is completely sympathetic and understanding of my Blockbuster dilemma and has never even heard of the film! But he vows to put in an order for it and let me know as soon as it arrives.  How could this be? How did Vic now know about this? It was on Roger Ebert’s show for Christ’s sake! It made his top ten list of that year!  Anyway, I eventually buy the film on VHS and subsequently Criterion releases a sterling DVD packed with all kinds of extra shit on it.  I go back to Vic’s in search of another elusive title and I happen to notice a VHS copy of George Washington sitting on his shelf.  It wasn’t the presence of the tape that delighted me but the little card nestled underneath it reading, VIC’S PICKS.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt more proud of myself than in that moment.  Then I realized, I didn’t do that, Roger Ebert did that.  If Roger Ebert had never told me about it, I never would have gone looking for it, I never would have rented the bum copy from Blockbuster, and I certainly never would had any reason to go to Vic and tell him about it.  It was in that moment that I realized watching movies is never a solitary practice.  When something moves you or makes you see the world in a different way, you never want to keep it to yourself.  Your first instinct is to rush out and tell somebody you know about it in the slim chance that it may open up the world for that person as well.  And if you’re lucky enough to share that film and make that connection, I can’t think of a better feeling in the entire world.  Roger Ebert taught me that and I will be forever grateful.  In closing, I give you a passage from his George Washington review, a review that most certainly changed my life.  You will be dearly missed, sir. 

“There is a summer in your life which is the last time boys and girls can be friends until they grow up. The summer when adolescence has arrived, but has not insisted on itself. When the stir of arriving sexuality still makes you feel hopeful instead of restless and troubled. When you feel powerful instead of unsure. That is the summer "George Washington" is about, and all it is about. Everything else in the film is just what happened to happen that summer.”

“The film was written and directed by David Gordon Greene. The cinematography, by Tim Orr, is the best of the year. The mood and feel of the film have been compared to the work of Terence Malick, and Greene is said to have watched "The Thin Red Line" over and over while preparing to shoot. But this is not a copy of Malick; it is simply in the same key. Like Malick's "Days of Heaven," it is not about plot, but about memory and regret. It remembers a summer that was not a happy summer, but there will never again be a summer so intensely felt, so alive, so valuable.”