FORGOTTEN FILM - HEAVEN

Diane Keaton is well known for her decades long career as an actress in many high profile films, but she has also, on occasion, gone behind the camera and her 1987 documentary, Heaven, is one of my most cherished viewing experiences. I came across it as a rental shortly after its release and found myself enchanted by it from the first viewing. Since then, I've become somewhat "evangelical" about trying to turn others on to it, whenever the opportunity has presented itself. Whether you're a true believer or atheist or agnostic, you are sure to find yourself connecting with this very human experience.

The film is essentially a series of interviews with a wide variety of people possessing all sorts of beliefs and representing a full spectrum of everything from everyday schmucks to the most eccentric oddballs. They are all interviewed in bizarre, angular, sets with a distinctly "new wave" aesthetic, which does slightly date this to its 1980s origins, but the substance and message remain timeless and transcendent.

A lesser film maker would have given in to the temptation to treat the interviewees as fodder for humiliation and ridicule, which would have been incredibly easy to do with some of these people. The camera could have cast judgements on them quite superfluously, had Keaton allowed such an angle to guide her production. Instead, however, she stealthily manages to keep judgements out of the equation and simply lets these people be themselves and express their views. The end result is that the audience is able to develop a surprisingly intimate relationship with them all, no matter how conflicting they may be with one's own world views. It's more than just "tolerance" which connects the viewer to these subjects, it's sincere affection for them. Every time I see this film again, I get the overwhelming sense of visiting with a group of old friends. I may scoff at some of what they have to say, but in the end, I'd still give them a hug, for the most part anyway.

Beyond the banquet of strange personalities, the film is an exploration of Heaven (and Hell) as a concept, not trying to prove whether or not it's real, but examining what people think it might or might not be, like how you get there and what you do once you are. Because the film doesn't approach the subjects with a predefined conception of "Heaven" and whether or not it exists, it's able to straddle the gulf between those who believe and those who don't. You get to make up your own mind and the film doesn't try to shove a belief system down your throat. You're not going to change your mind about your beliefs watching this, but you may find yourself thinking about them in a different way after you've heard what other people have to say and how they think about these things.

After all these years of seeing it many times, the film still brings the brightest grin to my face and, in the final sequence, the biggest lump in my throat. There are some people who you simply connect with in a very real way and they bring so much joy, even when they're so burdened with sadness. A particular senior lady is a perfect case in point. She reminds me of my great grandmother so much and then the final sequence of the film features her voice saying goodbye to all the other people in the film, like she's saying farewell to close family and friends. This device brings the concept of mortality into sharp focus and is what hammers home the emotional impact of it all, realizing that we're all going to die at some point and to cherish each other while we can.

Ultimately, it's a message of love and acceptance and joy and it'll make you feel good no matter what you believe.

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - THE BEATLES, YELLOW SUBMARINE

Music was a big part of my childhood. My mom even played music extra loud while I was in-utero because she wanted me to love music, and this was in 1963, long before hipster moms glomed onto the idea of trying to influence their babies while they were still chillin' in the womb. Once I was outta there, it was mostly stuff like Elvis & Johnny Cash records for my mom, while my dad had a Latin easy listening lean, stuff like Herb Alpert & Mexican Joe. They were still in their early 20s, so while their tastes were rooted in the 1950s, they'd still pick up the odd contemporary single, things like The Monkees' I'm a Believe & Last Train to Clarksville, but it was mostly country music stuff from them beyond that.

The real eye/ear opener for me as a kid was the day the babysitter brought over her newly purchased copy of The Beatles Yellow Submarine. It being released in 1969, I couldn't have been more than 5, going on 6. I can remember it so clearly, being in the living room, sitting with her on the floor next to the big old console stereo and her showing me this record. The cover of it was marvelous, so colorful and strange! Coming into my sense of self-consciousness in the late 1960s was a weird time because psychedelia was in full swing and it had an immediate appeal for a kid like me with its bright colors and fantastical imagery. It most definitely became a foundation memory for me in terms of guiding my quests for the unusual.

When she put the record on, I recall being transfixed by the music. It was so different from anything I'd really heard before and so instantly memorable. The hooks in the songs sunk into you and never let go. You heard this stuff once and were humming it forever afterwards.

I had no idea of what went into making this music back then nor how sophisticated it was in terms of its production, arrangements and execution. All I knew was that I wanted to find more music like this. It would be several years before my record collecting obsession would fully kick into gear in 1977, but this album was the one that got me to perceive the medium as something special and collectible, objects worth coveting. At the time, however, all I knew was that I also wanted to live in a Yellow Submarine.