Got the numbers from last night. Everyone’s pleased. The film ain’t no ‘Pokemon’ (hell, what is?), but it did well. Final numbers on Tuesday, of course.

But this was never about numbers anyway. It was always about celebrating the faith and (hopefully) entertaining a crowd in the process. Largely, it would seem, mission accomplished.

A very Christian hello to some of our new posters – the ones who weren’t such fans of the flick. My apologies if it wasn’t your cup of tea, but at the end of the day, aren’t we both on the same side (if there is such a thing)? I’m for Jesus, you’re for Jesus – we just go about expressing it different ways. I’m cool with your way; why can’t you allow me mine? Tolerance: it’s what Christ taught us.

For example…

I’d read about a potential protest of 500 people outside our local theatre in Eatontown. In an effort to better understand these folks, I decided to hang out with them. However, not wanting to seem disruptive, I drafted a few signs to carry (‘To Hell With Dogma’ and the slightly more amusing – though not that original I discovered when I hit the board late last night – ‘Dogma is Dog-Shit’). Jen, Bryan and I headed over to the theatre to see what the climate was outside (beyond the 40 degree temperature).

The 500 weren’t in evidence. The head count (including us) was twenty. We held our signs and quietly prayed the Rosary with the group for about an hour (well, I prayed the rosary; Jen and Bryan are relative heathens when it comes to the Mysteries and the Memorare’). I was even interviewed by a local newscrew, not as myself, during which I maintained that I was mad about the movie, and that I would not patronize it (although I couldn’t help but mention that I liked the director’s first film a little). A woman told me my sign wasn’t appropriate (the ‘Dog-Shit’ one), and I apologized, offering that the movie wasn’t appropriate, from what I’d been told. We agreed that it’d be better if I removed the offending word, so I did as much, rendering my sign a neutered ‘Dogma is Dog’.

After the Rosary I got a chance to talk to some of the people in attendance (again, not wanting to ruin their night, I didn’t say “Hi – I made ‘Dogma’.”) They told me that they were disappointed in the showing, but were glad to see someone young there (the average age of the group, excluding our trio, was about sixty). I was told some nasty things about my parents, and some nastier things about myself (or rather, the director). Jen – who’s much more disturbed by these goings-on – asked if anyone had actually seen the film. Some mentioned reading a review, but that was about as close as they got.

In all fairness, these were nice, decent people who don’t like what they heard about the flick. In truth, if they did see the movie, it wouldn’t alter their opinion. I didn’t feel negative toward them in the least (in fact, I admired the fact that they were outside in the cold, too far from the theatre to really be effective, but willing to take a stand regardless). At the end of the day, we’re not that different – we two groups of Catholics. They just have a different set of values from me, and a lot more reverence for the Church itself than for the words of our Lord.They seemed nice enough, though. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that they didn’t have any donuts or coffee out there.

Point is, I didn’t get in their face or flame them – as the Catholic League enthusiast in our midst seems to think is appropriate. That would be like an atheist going into church and yelling contrarian sentiments at the priest mid-Mass. I’ll never understand the folks who can’t simply dislike something (as Christians, we’re not supposed to hate), and feel the need to go to a place where folks who DO like something (and aren’t hurting anyone in the process) congregate, and get up in their face about feeling the opposite. If I don’t like something, I pay little or no attention to it, or just flat-out ignore it (unless it was something like rape or murder; as much as I loathe rapists and murderers, if I ran into one – mid-act – I couldn’t simply ignore them or their evil acts; I’d kill myself trying to stop them).

But that’s what these people outside the theatre equate with what they perceive to be Catholic-bashing: rape or murder. To them, a perceived attack on their faith is tantamount to physical harm on someone. And while that’s a little screwy in opinion (because, let’s be honest – God is a lot stronger than these people let on, and faith is a concept, not a human life), I can’t knock them for it. Like I said – their values are just different than mine.

However, that doesn’t make me wrong and them right, or vice versa. It just makes us different, and we take different approaches toward the same thing:Heaven.

Okay – enough sermonizing. On with the countdown…

I’ll be on Larry King Live on Monday. Rock and I taped Charlie Rose yesterday, but I’m not sure when it’s running. And ‘Dogma’ is playing somewhere near you. Take someone you love and respect to see it. Then go see ‘Bond’ next week. And if ‘Bond’ is sold out, go see ‘Dogma’ again.And again. And again. (As I’ve mentioned – I got a kid I’m going to have to put through college.)

Thanks, all, for the past and continued support. It would seem our fourth flick is going to outgross all our other flicks combined, which – when you remove the dollar figure – means more audiences are being exposed to View Askew. I’m glad it was with this film, and to that, I have one more thanks to give…

Thanks, God.

My Friend And Mentor, Vincent

This is something I’d like reposted on every board for the next few months, so if someone wouldoblige me when the boards turn over, I’d be appreciative.

It was brought to my attention that a thank you which is supposed to be in the end credits somehowdidn’t make it. This thank you was to be as follows…

“Vincent – Without whom, I’d still be watching movies instead of making them.”

You all know Vincent Pereira here. He’s a very crucial lynchpin in our operation. Indeed, it wasVincent who first presented film to me as something not just to be viewed. Vincent introduced thepossibility of MAKING films to me (so if you hate my shit, blame him).

We were working at Quick Stop at the time. Vincent was, as some may have gathered from the’Clerks Christmas Special’ comic, the mop-boy. He’d come in at nine every night to mop the floorsand stock the milk, but he really aspired to run the video store (granted, he aspired to much more thanjust that, but as he was in high school, the video store would have to suffice for the time being). Wedidn’t really speak for the first few months I worked at the Stop (he preceded me there by a bit), butwhen we finally struck up a conversation, it was over movies and t.v. – particularly ‘Twin Peaks’,which was on at the time.

Vincent was then, as he is now, a HUGE film buff. I loved movies, but I merely loved watching them.Vincent LIVED movies – not just seeing them, but the technical aspect of film as well; the art. Theman knew how movies were made, knew his aspect rations down to the digit, knew the craft insideand out. In fact, it was Vincent who first introduced me to letterboxing and laserdiscs (I rememberarguing with him that a letterboxed disc wasn’t as good as a cropped VHS tape because so much ofthe image was left off the disc; what can I say – I was then, as I am now, a virtual idiot when it comesto the language of cinema). Anything I know about film-making I pretty much owe to Vincent (writingI owe to God).

In fact, it was with Vincent that I first trekked into the big, scary city that is New York to see ‘Slacker’- the movie that would kick my ass into gear. We’d go to Manhattan after work on Fridays orSaturdays to devour flicks at the Angelika midnight shows, and lived by the Village Voice movietime-table (funny story: Vincent and I went to see ‘Bad Lieutenant’ once, and I put my bag – the thingthat I carried money, bills, checks and a notebook in – in his trunk, as well as a scrapbook I wasworking on for a friend; when we came out of the theatre at two in the morning and headed for thecar, we saw a box on top of Vincent’s car that looked like the box I had the scrapbook in; in fact, itWAS the box – the car had been broken into, and the thief took everything, but left the scrapbook;the irony is that the notebook in the bag had my earliest rumblings of ‘Clerks’ in it, back when it wascalled ‘InConvenience’; I can already hear the detractors saying “That must have been the GOODversion of the script.”) Driving home from those weekend viewings, we’d talk about flicks we’d like tomake, dreaming of a career in the field we loved (though, admittedly, he loved it more).

Vincent was the first person to read the scenes that would become ‘Clerks’. He encouraged me tofinish the script and shoot it. In fact, Vincent’s responsible for the title. He came up with a list ofpossible titles based on the pages he’d read (which I still have somewhere). Some of them wereesoteric (‘The Man Behind the Counter’ – a variation on ‘The Man Behind the Sun’, a fave flick of hisat the time), and some of them were a little on the nose (‘Stupid Customers’). One spoke to me a bitmore than the others (‘Rude Clerks’); the rest is history.

Point is, I probably wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing, were it not for meeting Vincent. He was thefirst person I’d ever met who aspired to something that most people thought improbable (most of thecats I knew then lived in the moment; Vincent lived in the future, and dared to imagine for himself a lifein a field most people don’t have a chance in). I’ve long considered the man our official Historian atView Askew. I’ve long considered the man a far more gifted director than myself. I’ve longconsidered the man a trusted confidant and advisor.

And I’ve long considered the man one of my best friends.

Which is why I feel like such an asshole that the intended thank you is not up there on the screen atthe end of ‘Dogma’.

My deepest, deepest apologies, Vincent, for what was a mistake that I should’ve been on top of. Ishould’ve re-read that thank you list one more time before we shot the credits. I’m a bonehead. Mybad.

But know that you’re the guy who started it all. You’re the guy who I look to for the deciding takesometimes (for any who question this, ask Mosier; our editing room mantra on every cut was “What’sVincent think?”) And while Vincent does have a technical credit on the back end of the flick, hedeserves so much more. Next time, you go first (after God, of course). Promise.

I love you, Vincent, and, again – I’m really, really sorry about the fuck-up. I owe you one.

You know, now that I think about it, ‘Stupid Customers’ wouldn’t have been so bad a title.