Tag Archives: Birmingham

Review: Work Lunch, Poems by Lee Bains

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Here’s a part of my review of Lee Bains’s debut book of poetry, Work Lunch, which was released today (10/13/2026):

To read these poems is to be regaled with tastes, to savor pulled pork that has “the texture of the ropy sawdust that unspools when a dull blade / chews up a rained-on board.” It is to learn more than you ever dreamed there was to know about the Greek-owned hot dog stands in Birmingham, and that Grandmama – even when given the chance to go “to the Bright Star / or the Red Lobster, she’d usually just / rather a good hot dog and some potato chips.” It is to learn how Birmingham’s early Greek immigrants managed to “transform wieners on whitebread into a cornerstone / of a blue-collar city’s unlikely culinary cathedral.” It is to remind us of the diversity of the hot dog stand clientele and to remind us that the word “Mediterranean” translates to “Middle of the Earth.”

But food is just a touchstone for Work Lunch. It’s a passionate consideration of our world and our individual places in it. Read the full review here: Work Lunch – Alabama Writers’ Forum

Growing Up with Atticus

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Birmingham’s Virginia Samford Theatre is celebrating its centennial in the 2026-2027 season. In 1927, it was founded as The Little Theatre, home to Birmingham’s community theatre. By the time I was growing up in the city, it was Clark Memorial Theatre, home to Town and Gown Theatre. When Town and Gown was dissolved at the turn of the century, the building was purchased and restored, renamed Virginia Samford Theatre, and continues to be a home for local live theatre.

The building has a rich history beyond the theatre and its shows. Writer and actor Fannie Flagg, as a shy fifteen-year-old, found her “tribe” at Town and Gown after volunteering to be a spotlight operator for a show and eventually became an actor on its stage. In the 1960s, Town and Gown gained a reputation for hosting successful auditions for major films looking for juvenile actors. Auditions for the film adaptation of Carson McCullers’s The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, to be filmed in Selma, were held there and a young Sondra Locke lied about her age and landed the lead. I auditioned there for the juvenile lead in The Reivers, the film adaptation of William Faulkner’s last novel, starring Steve McQueen. I only got one callback but one of my classmates was flown to Los Angeles to audition with McQueen. Even so, a Hollywood kid was cast in that one. But Town and Gown’s most notable coup in film casting is the fact that Philip Alford and Mary Badham – neither of whom had previous acting experience – were cast as Jem and Scout Finch in the acclaimed and enduring film adaptation of Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, starring Gregory Peck in his Oscar-winning role as Atticus Finch.

That history gives added luster to the fact that Virginia Samford Theatre opened its centennial season with the world premiere of Growing Up with Atticus, starring Mary Badham – “Scout” from the movie, and Cecilia Peck – Gregory Peck’s daughter. Growing Up with Atticus, directed by David Strickland, is presented as a conversation between two life-long friends, amplified by clips from To Kill a Mockingbird, photos, scrapbook images, and footage from various projects by Mary Badham and Cecilia and Gregory Peck.

Mary and Cecilia have known each other since childhood and have remained close ever since. That bond is evident in the comfort they share with each other onstage, sitting in chairs with a pitcher of tea, as they reminisce about the filming of To Kill a Mockingbird. Mary was eight years old when she was cast in Mockingbird and was ten when she was nominated for an Academy Award as Supporting Actress in the film; she is still the youngest Supporting Actress nominee in Academy history. The supporting actress Oscar that year went to Patty Duke, another juvenile actor, for her role as Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker, still another film adaptation of an Alabama-set literary work. Growing Up with Atticus incorporates video from the 1963 Oscar ceremony, including Gregory Peck’s acceptance speech, with Mary Badham’s explanation of why the cameras couldn’t find her when her name was called as a nominee.

It is those kinds of personal, intimate revelations that make the two-woman stage presentation so captivating. The show is a lovefest – from the haunting film score by Elmer Bernstein that plays as the audience is seated to the testimonials of the audience during a second act Q&A. The Q&A makes each performance a unique and singular experience. At the matinee I attended, a woman in the audience recounted how her father was imprisoned for his political activism and was inspired by the example of Atticus Finch standing up for what is right. A young girl who asked a question was named “Scout” to honor the book and movie’s influence on her parents. Audience members spoke of traveling from Arkansas, Louisiana, Virginia – just to see the show.

The performance includes content about the Civil Rights movement and the 1963 “Birmingham Campaign” in particular. Mary Badham recounts her chilling first encounter with racism on a Birmingham city bus with her nanny when the driver stopped the bus and separated her from her nanny so they would each be sitting in the racially “correct” seats.

During the Q&A that I attended, it was revealed that Sephira Shuttlesworth, the widow of Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth, was in the audience. Rev. Shuttlesworth was a guiding force in the Birmingham civil rights movement and Mrs. Shuttlesworth spoke briefly to the audience with words that were powerful, moving, and hopeful. After Mrs. Shuttlesworth was recognized, one audience member spoke up to say that Dr. King “got the credit” for the Birmingham Campaign, but Rev. Shuttlesworth “did the work.”

After I attended Growing Up with Atticus, I was asked if I enjoyed “the play.” I’m not sure how to respond since it isn’t really a play; it’s an event, an experience, and, at times, it feels like a revival meeting. There is one scene in the performance, however, that is theatrical in a way that elicits chills in the recounting. Cecilia and Mary discuss the pivotal nighttime scene when Atticus is sitting and reading in front of the courthouse, keeping vigil while Tom Robinson is imprisoned inside. On the screen above them, that scene from the movie is shown: A lynch mob arrives and confronts Atticus. Soon after, Jem, Scout, and their friend Dill arrive to check on Atticus. In the confusion that ensues, Scout recognizes Mr. Cunningham – the father of her classmate, Walter – and says “hey’’ to him. As Scout’s monologue continues, it is picked up by present-day Mary standing at the front of the stage. Another light comes up on Cecilia Peck standing beside the lamp, in the place her own father stood in the movie. As the filmed scene ends, Cecilia Peck and Mary Badham stand together, reflecting that powerful father-daughter moment on screen almost sixty-five years ago.

The magnificent performance and inspirational life-long influence of Gregory Peck is a focus of Growing Up with Atticus, but Harper Lee, Alabama, the Badham family, “the Book,” and “the Movie” also are prominently featured throughout. Ultimately, it seems, the conversation and interaction with Ms. Badham and Ms. Peck is about Family – the one we’re born into and the ones we choose. Cecilia Peck talks about the powerful bond her parents had with Harper Lee throughout their lives and her family’s annual visits to Lee in New York and, later, Monroeville. She introduced her husband, son, and the son’s girlfriend in the audience at that matinee. The son’s name – Harper Peck.

For their performance coda, Badham and Peck chose the words that Gregory Peck wrote in his notes at the end of his script for To Kill a Mockingbird – words that guide his portrayal of Atticus and words we’re urged to remember and live by: “Fairness, Courage, Stubbornness, Love.”

Why I Go: Notes on Sidewalk 2026

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Friday O, me of little faith. I approached the 28th edition of Birmingham’s Sidewalk Film Festival with no small amount of trepidation. After studying the schedule and the synopses of films, watching some trailers, and second-guessing the wisdom of buying a VIP pass for a festival that I wasn’t expecting to enjoy much – not to mention booking a hotel room in the midst of the festival so that I could park and walk for three days on a still-healing broken ankle, I entered the festivities with a grim attitude. It has been a rough year and I wasn’t expecting to be pulled out of my doldrums sitting in dark movie theatres on the last weekend in August.  But then, there was the cinephile temptation of a few hundred moving picture titles spread out over ten screens within walking distance of each other in the course of fifty hours. A doldrum-buster, perhaps?

So I parked my car for the weekend, checked in to the Elyton, walked around downtown for a while to loosen up my feet, got a really good bowl of gumbo from a food truck, and walked back to the Alabama Theatre for Opening Night. At some point in years past, the Sidewalk powers-that-be decided that the opening night was more about feel-good films and the party – before and after – than it was about serious movie-making. In recent years I have often opted to skip the opening night screening altogether. This year, though, I decided to give the Opening Night film, John Wilson’s debut feature documentary, The History of Concrete, a chance. It was funny for a while – an entertaining short was in there somewhere – but at some point it was tiring and ultimately I found it depressing and walked out of the screening. No offense to Wilson and his loyal fanbase – it’s not you, it’s me I’m sure. It has a really good trailer, by the way.

I was glad I walked out because everybody was in the theatre watching the doc and the streets were quiet and relatively empty. People were quietly preparing in anticipation of the block party. I have always felt invigorated walking the streets of downtown Birmingham – even in the bleak years before the downtown rebirth. The theatre marquees looked good up and down the street. I still miss the neon. I’m feeling old.

Saturday In the early years of Sidewalk, I tried to see how many screenings I could squeeze into a weekend. With 250-300 titles to choose from, depending on how many programs of short documentary and narrative films I worked in among the features, I could sometimes get in about three dozen titles. I was careful in selecting my programming, but it used to be a source of pride that I had the stamina for such an undertaking – and I realized even then that I still had only seen maybe ten percent of what was on offer.

I don’t do that anymore.

So on Saturday, after a good breakfast, I headed to the Carver Theatre for a double-feature of documentaries about the city of Birmingham. “As Goes the South,” directed by Brian “B+” Cross and Eric Coleman, is an enjoyable, booster-ish look at Birmingham personalities and success stories; “Birmingham’s Front Lawn,” directed by Michele Forman, is a deep dive into the genesis and evolution of Birmingham’s Railroad Park, a sprawling park in the middle of the central city that occupies once desolate land along the phalanx of railroad tracks that bisect downtown.

With my civic responsibilities fulfilled, it was off to Birmingham Museum of Art and the Polish film, Glorious Summer, directed by Bartosz Szpak and Helena Ganjalyan. It’s a dystopian enigma about three women, living a cloistered existence in a crumbling palatial pile, with all of their earthly needs fulfilled so long as they remain within the geographic boundaries set for them by disembodied voices and mysteriously appearing texts. The outside world’s presence is an occasional explosion or flames in the far distance. Two of the women employ ways of communicating through touch as they play, exercise, follow directions, contemplate their plight, practice their deaths, plot their escape. The film is cryptic, perplexing – beautiful to behold and baffling to contemplate. It lingers long after the closing credits and I’m still trying to come to grips with what it’s saying. In short, it’s why I go to film festivals.

Or maybe the reason I go to film festivals is the episodic situational comedies like Human Theories, directed by Jess Zeidman, with a cast of dozens that played at the Sidewalk Cinema in the afternoon. The New York of Human Theories is bleak, dark, and grimy – the antithesis of the crisp and glistening New York of Woody Allen’s best comedies. Warhol said that in the future everybody would be famous for fifteen minutes; the actors in Human Theories typically get only two or three minutes before it’s off to the next thing. It’s very funny and uncomfortably real.

It had been a lot of walking between screenings and my ankle was beginning to feel it. I decided to do something I used to never do at Sidewalk: Quit while I was ahead, have a good late lunch, go back to the Elyton, take a nap. Those were smart decisions. After the nap, I took a nighttime walk around the theatre district and decided not to take in any more movies that night. I realize that another of the reasons I go to the festival is for the opportunity to walk aimlessly around the city and feel its pulse, and mine.

Sunday After checking out of the hotel and retrieving my car, I found a perfect place to park in front of Sidewalk Cinema where I expected my weekend of movie-going to end. Then I walked the few blocks to the Carver Theatre to get in line early for my next program of short documentaries. There weren’t many people waiting yet and I quipped to a waiting couple that “I arrive early so I can get a seat in the back.” Old habits are hard to relinquish and I have been most comfortable in the back row of a theatre since my days directing plays, taking notes inconspicuously in the back. As we were taking our seats in the theatre, the couple from the lobby passed me settling in to my back row seat on the aisle.

“You really meant it,” the man said. “I thought you were joking. I thought people got here early to sit in the front.”

Gesturing to the whole room, as more people began to come in, I said, “It’s all yours.”

A woman seated near the front said, “I love watching films at Sidewalk on a Sunday morning.” I have said the same thing over the years; some of the Sidewalk films that stick most vividly with me were viewed on a Sunday morning (Family Portrait, 45365, and Icepick to the Moon come immediately to mind from past Sidewalk Sunday mornings).

I initially chose this set of nine short documentaries because of the film, “The Chukker: Nation of Misfits.” The Chukker was a seedy and superlative watering hole in downtown Tuscaloosa for almost half a century. Every strata of society was welcome – except perhaps for the strata that was embarrassed to be in such a diverse and rich smorgasbord of people. University of Alabama students Nate Billings and Charlotte Gale, who were probably born right around the time the Chukker went away to be replaced by a fountain in a public square, gathered up footage to create a history of the bar and its ongoing cultural legacy. Since I first went to the Chukker as a toddler in 1957, the year after it opened, when it also served food as a grill during the day, I have always had a soft spot for the place and its history.

Another short film in the program, “Adi,” directed by Sukanya Subramaniyan, was recommended to me by my physician, who is also a musician. It features the musical trio Vishnu, Davis, & Haleigh, who have forged a distinctive and ethereal sound from musical traditions of Appalachia and India. Following doctor’s orders, I introduced myself to Davis and Haleigh in the lobby and found another group of musicians I plan to follow. Theirs is a lovely sound.

By noon, morning had passed, but the film The Birds Tell Me All There Is to Know, the debut feature by director Aidan Cronin, will no doubt remain in my mind in my personal pantheon of “Sunday morning films at Sidewalk.” It provided a needed balm in a challenging year. Using outdated video cameras, non-professional actors, and an analog point-of-view, Cronin has crafted a moving and beautiful film about memory, loss, youth, and aging. Cronin is a patient director and his film demands a patient and attentive viewer. He lingers, his cast lingers, and the audience must linger to get the full benefit of what this deliberate film has to offer. Its quiet power is a challenge to achieve and I hope to see more from Cronin in the future.

The Ark, a documentary by Viacheslav Rakivskyi and Jeremy Chilnick, is urgent and topical, taking place during Russia’s current incursion in Ukraine. A Ukrainian family, in the process of establishing a place for healing, is asked by a soldier to care for his goats while he is away in combat. The floodgates are opened and the family finds itself the caregiver for hundreds of animals displaced by the Russian invasion, including a donkey amputee who becomes the heartbeat of the film. Against all odds, the film is inspirational and uplifting and a call for all to fight oppression in its many forms.

I left The Ark screening with another “must see” on my list and a couple of others that I might try to get into. A quick survey of the rivulet of lines coming out of the Sidewalk Cinema entrance convinced me that I wouldn’t get in, so I dashed to my prime parking spot and went on my way. As always, it was a great weekend.

Why do I go to Sidewalk? To see films and meet artists that I may not have discovered otherwise. I am rarely disappointed.

Bayt Al-Qahwah

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Bayt Al-Qahwah means “House of Coffee” if you didn’t know. I didn’t know until I dropped into the newish coffee shop in a strip shopping center in Birmingham’s Homewood suburb (baytalqahwah1.wixsite.com). I was glad I dropped in.

Bayt Al-Qahwah features coffee from Yemen and sports a sleek and comfortable vibe with pillows on the seats and lots of shiny surfaces. An artpiece hanging near the entrance is a 3-D map of Yemen. There are conference rooms to the side, and a prayer room tucked in, too. When I was there, a World Cup match was being live-streamed on a large but unobtrusive screen. It was a pleasant way to spend part of a hot Saturday afternoon in June. I was pleased to see that Bayt Al-Qahwah (I’m trying to figure out a shorter name to call it) is open until 10:00 every night and until 11:00 on Friday and Saturday. Too often, coffee shops are closing right around the time I’m getting the urge, so it’s good to find a nighttime option.

For my less sophisticated coffee palate, Arabic coffee can be a little harsh, but there are plenty of options on the large beverage menu and a case full of enticing pastries. I played it safe with a latte but explored the menu for more adventurous options on future visits. There will be future visits.

It was a diverse and subdued crowd; even people watching the World Cup kept it under control. A family ranging from small kids to grandparents trooped in to get refreshment and catch some futbol action; they wore the shirts of their favorite American college football team. A man wearing a Knicks jersey walked in the door. A couple near me was on a first date; I tried not to eavesdrop, but the conversation was animated at times. Well-behaved dogs were welcome and foreign languages were scattered around. Several of the very friendly women behind the counter wore hijabs and one of them engaged me in conversation about my black eye and bandaged forehead from a recent accident. I had camouflaged both with sunglasses and a cap, but there they were. I would rather answer questions about my wounds than have people stare and then look away when I look back.

I finished a chapter in the book I’m reading and finished my latte. I was relaxed and wanted to linger but responsibilities called. There hasn’t been much time to explore of late, so I was glad to wander forth into a fresh experience so close to home. I wasn’t at Bayt Al-Qahwah for long, but I felt refreshed and adventurous going back into the parking lot of an outwardly bland strip mall.

Fear Not

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My favorite Birmingham neighborhoods are Five Points South and, adjoining it, Highland Park. Five Points is primarily an entertainment district that was a streetcar junction back in the early days of the city. Highland Park was an early Birmingham suburb dotted with parks and going up the mountain, centered around the meandering Highland Avenue. When I lived on Birmingham’s Southside for four years in the 90s, I lived on Red Mountain near Vulcan and could see Five Points and Highland Park from my apartment balcony. They are great walking neighborhoods. The area also satisfies my interest in ecclesiastical architecture with its scattering of historic churches.

I recently went for coffee at a shop in Five Points and, while circling the block looking for a parking place, I went past one of the neighborhood’s great nineteenth century church buildings, St. Mary’s on the Highlands. St. Mary’s was formed in 1887 when parishioners at the Episcopal Church of the Advent downtown started their own parish on the mountain, overlooking the growing city and serving the growing Highlands suburb. The imposing English Revival church was completed in 1891. There have been expansions since, handsomely complementing the original structure.

I have always admired the church and have passed it many times. I guess I hadn’t passed it in a while, though, because as I was circling the block I was gobsmacked to see a formidable metal angel on a façade over an arched passageway leading to a meditation garden. If the angel was there on past visits, I somehow didn’t notice it; now, I don’t know how I could have missed it. I did a little research and found that the angel sculpture, by Birmingham sculptor Cordray Parker (1934-2007), is called “Fear Not.”

The banner flowing from the angel’s left hand says “FEAR NOT.” I read that those words appear in the King James Bible over seventy times and “be not afraid” shows up almost thirty. The Biblical passage that comes immediately to mind is in the gospel, Luke 2:10, when the angel announces the birth of Jesus to the shepherds in the field.

“Fear not” is a powerful piece of advice, don’t you think? It definitely applies when one sees a spectral gathering in the night sky … runs across a copperhead on a wooded trail … jumps into water over your head … watches an approaching storm … stops by woods on a snowy evening … cares for an ailing parent … feels helpless watching one’s country rapidly decline into an uncertain future …

Yes, “fear not” can adapt to many applications. I try to remember to pair it with the Persian adage “This too shall pass.” In both cases, the words are simple and forceful and might provide a flash of hope and peace in troubled times. I don’t know about you, but that’s the message I want to get from a church … even in passing while searching for a parking spot.

Sidewalking 2024

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Each year, on the final August weekend before the start of college football season, Birmingham’s Sidewalk Film Festival fills the north side of downtown with screenings, workshops, panels, and events focused on what’s happening in the world of independent filmmaking. Sidewalk has garnered many designations from film media over the years, including nonspecific adjectives like “coolest” and “fabulous.” It was also, more specifically, designated as one of the “Great Film Festivals for First-Time MovieMakers.” I’ve been present for the majority of the twenty-six iterations of Sidewalk and am delighted and proud that it became what it has become. Sidewalk Film Center + Cinema, in the basement of the Pizitz building, houses two cinemas showing movies year-round in intimate state-of-the art theaters that have become my favorite places to catch a movie in the city. The Festival even went on in 2020, at the height of the pandemic, in a drive-in theatre format at an outlet mall just outside the city. “Cool,” right?

It is my habit to book a room at the Elyton Hotel, on the southern edge of the festival, at the proverbial “Heaviest Corner on Earth,” ditch the car, and walk and walk … and walk among ten downtown venues showing about 250 titles from morning to late-night. A filmmaker friend who showed his film at Sidewalk years ago quipped that “now I understand why they call it ‘Sidewalk’.”

The 26th Annual Sidewalk opened at the Alabama Theatre on Friday night with Exhibiting Forgiveness, the debut film by visual artist Titus Kaphar starring Alabama native Andre Holland.

Easing in to a full day of movie watching on Saturday, I decided to watch “Saturday Morning Cartoons” at the Sidewalk Cinemas where sugary cereals and milk, coffee, cold pizza, Bloody Marys, and mimosas were on hand. Cleansed by cartoons and breakfast food, I walked over to the next block to catch a live organ performance by Nathan Avakian at the Alabama Theatre, Birmingham’s 1927 vintage “Showplace of the South.” Avakian provided accompaniment for a classic Harold Lloyd short and several three-minute contemporary films from the International Youth Silent Film Festival (IYSFF), all of which were directed by talented youth between the ages of thirteen and twenty.

Refreshed and awake, it was time to dive into the real business of the day and start watching movies. I am not keeping up with cinema like I used to so my selections were based largely on instinct. I am relieved to say that my instincts were good. My first full-length screening, Family Portrait (2023) at Sidewalk Cinema, was my best choice, but more about that later.

At the Birmingham Museum of Art, Chaperone (2024), directed by Zoe Eisenberg, features a compelling, sometimes painful, performance by Mitzi Akaha as an almost-thirty slacker who, despite pressures to accept responsibility, is content in her life until she accidentally gets romantically involved with a much younger guy.

Rushing back down to the Lyric Theatre, the night was closed out with My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock (2022), a high-concept documentary caper by Mark Cousins. The film is narrated in a voice, purported to be Hitchcock’s, about the various elements of Hitch’s filmography. It’s an entertaining ruse and a relaxing opportunity to revisit snippets of Hitchcock’s films and reexamine his mastery of suspense.

Sunday morning was the time for Sleep (South Korea, 2024), directed by Jason Yu. Yu’s suspenseful film, about a young couple suddenly beset with sleepwalking that quickly becomes a nightmare, is a deftly handled debut by Yu with strong and affecting performances by Jung Yu-mi and Lee Sun-kyun as the besieged couple.

My Sunday schedule is often heavy with documentaries and Resynator, directed by Alison Tavel, explores Tavel’s search for information about a father she never knew. Her father, Don Tavel, invented a synthesizer in the 1970s. In discovering the history of the Resynator synthesizer, Alison also forges a connection with her father.

Turning to more locally-focused fare – which is a Sidewalk standard, A Symphony Celebration: The Blind Boys of Alabama with Dr. Henry Panion III (2024), directed by Michael Edwards and Henry Panion, played at the recently-renovated Carver Theatre. My fandom of the Blind Boys took hold in the ‘80s when I was fortunate enough to attend The Gospel at Colonus, Lee Breuer and Bob Telson’s brilliant stage adaptation of the ancient Greek play, Oedipus at Colonus by Sophocles. The production featured Morgan Freeman as the Messenger and the Blind Boys of Alabama, collectively, as Oedipus. A Symphony Celebration chronicles a Birmingham performance by the Blind Boys with full orchestra and chorus. A centerpiece of the performance is the Blind Boys’ signature rendition of “Amazing Grace” to the tune of “House of the Rising Sun,” a controversial choice that has become the Blind Boys’ most enduring hit.

The Almost Lost Story of Tuxedo Junction (2024), directed by Katie Rogers, is about a spot in the Ensley neighborhood of west Birmingham that is both mythologized and forgotten. My dad grew up on Avenue D in Ensley and I have known the humble building that stands at what was once a streetcar junction for as long as I can remember. Also, I cannot help tapping my toes whenever I hear the Erskine Hawkins-composed jazz standard, “Tuxedo Junction,” a piece inspired by that now-neglected place. It was heartening to see the large crowd that filled the Carver to watch the documentary; maybe more people remember than we realize.

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Now, if I’m lucky, I will see at least one movie each year at Sidewalk that I won’t forget. Most of what I saw in this 2024 edition was of fine quality and merit. However, the film that I can’t stop pondering is Family Portrait (2023), directed by Lucy Kerr.

A large family is gathered at an idyllic riverside home on a warm summery day. It is the appointed day to take the annual family photo for the Christmas card before the gathered begin to disperse. The news of the mysterious death of a distant relative begins to spread through the house. The family matriarch, who meticulously plans the annual card, walks away and seems to disappear. As the rest of the family goes blithely through their carefree day, daughter Katy (Deragh Campbell) becomes increasingly anxious – to take the picture, to find her mother. The mood of this quiet film becomes increasingly frantic, desperate, foreboding.

Family Portrait is a beautiful film – beautiful cinematography by Lidia Nikonova, beautifully edited by Karlis Bergs, brilliant sound design by Nikolay Antonov and Andrew Siedenburg. In a dreamlike prologue, the family aimlessly gathers at the river and the camera follows first one and then another, moving carefully back and forth and among the family members. Santa Claus hats are being handed out on a bright warm day; a man is given a hat, places it on a passing child’s head, and, when the child discards it, the man reluctantly picks it up and walks toward the others as the camera glides to another point of interest. Sound begins to bleed in, subconsciously at first – faint childish chatter, adult banter, nature sounds … and then the opening titles appear.

Exposition is casual and dialogue overlaps. We learn that the family are Texan. Katy is not married to her Polish partner, Oleg (Chris Galust); he has been designated the photographer for the portrait since he’s not “family.” A relative’s iconic World War II photograph was appropriated for Vietnam War propaganda of some sort. There is a brief sequence in which Katy and Oleg read an excerpt from a Barbara Bush memoir they have pulled from a shelf (I recognized the book cover from my mother’s bookshelves). A couple of hired workers go about their business inside and outside the house. Something is amiss and the specter of Covid is clearly looming here, but has not yet become a conscious issue for the family. A lyrical underwater swim late in the movie raises many questions as Katy emerges, soaking wet, and walks back toward the house. A slice of life story becomes surreal, off-balance. It seems that nobody remembers that Katy and Oleg are late for a ride to the airport.

Movies like Family Portrait are the reason I go to film festivals.

3rd Avenue West

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Rickwood Field; Birmingham

When Chicago’s Comiskey Park was demolished in 1991, Birmingham’s Rickwood Field, built in 1910, became the oldest professional baseball park in the United States (www.rickwood.com). The history of the storied baseball field in what is now a less-traveled section of Birmingham’s West End will be revealed to a wider audience on June 20, 2024, when Rickwood hosts Major League Baseball’s nationally televised tribute to the Negro Leagues with a regular season game between the San Francisco Giants and the St. Louis Cardinals. Birmingham native and Hall of Famer Willie Mays, who began his professional baseball career as a Birmingham Black Baron in 1948, will be the honoree.

In the years of segregation, the Birmingham Black Barons shared Rickwood with the Birmingham Barons. Even for those who are not big baseball fans, lists of the ballplayers who played at Rickwood – either as members of the local teams or with exhibitions or traveling teams – is impressive to the point of being daunting. In addition to Willie Mays, there are Hank Aaron, Vida Blue, Ty Cobb, Piper Davis, Dizzy Dean, Joe DiMaggio, Lou Gehrig, “Shoeless Joe” Jackson, Mickey Mantle, Stan Musial, Satchell Paige, Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, Honus Wagner, and so many more. When Birmingham native Charlie O. Finley owned the Oakland A’s, his 1967 minor league Birmingham A’s roster boasted Dave Duncan, Rollie Fingers, Reggie Jackson, Tony LaRussa, and Joe Rudi.

The Birmingham Barons’ current home is Regions Field in downtown but they play a throwback game at Rickwood every season. Rickwood is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. A very active Friends of Rickwood organization has worked for decades to nurture and refurbish the baseball park, which remains a facility for a local college and Birmingham city schools. Major League Baseball has chipped in with upgrades over the past year, since the Negro Leagues salute was announced. Sneak peeks indicate that the changes and upgrades have not diminished the essential character of the proud structure or its infield. I can still imagine my dad as a teenager riding his bicycle from Ensley to Rickwood to sell concessions in the stands. From Rickwood Field, one can see 3rd Avenue West.

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When I was a kid, Birmingham was still a center of heavy industry and factory-life was going strong in areas like the U.S. Steel works in Fairfield and Ensley and other industrial sites. Because of shift work, the commercial areas of these places were twenty-four-hour districts.

To a young boy, the bustle and energy of western Birmingham was exciting. I had grandparents in Ensley and Fairfield Highlands and lived in the Green Acres community from second to eighth grade; much of my growing up years was spent in those areas.

In those days before the interstate, 3rd Avenue West was the central thoroughfare of west Birmingham. Going east on 3rd Avenue West, it became 3rd Avenue North and went downtown into the theatre district. Going west, it became Bessemer Super Highway. Bessemer Super Highway was originally modelled on the German autobahn and was destined to be the first controlled-access highway in the United States. Funding dried up in the Depression, but the four-lane with wide medians was still impressive for its time.

I particularly remember a row of motels including a Wigwam Village Motor Court, a chain featuring teepee-shaped cabins around a central teepee main building. My parents bowled at the Holiday Bowl and Alabama’s first Holiday Inn was along that stretch.

Occasionally, we would hear about a “gas war” up on the highway. Gas stations would start competing for the lowest prices and cars would line up to take advantage as long as it lasted. I can remember gas getting as low as ten cents a gallon before a filling station owner blinked and gas prices began to make their way back up to the average price of 31 cents a gallon.

5 Points West Shopping City was a sprawling shopping center with a large variety of shopping options. My mother has particularly fond memories of New Williams and Parisian department stores at the site. A Parisian saleslady would lay aside boys’ clothes that she thought Mother might like to consider for me.

Across from the shopping center was the Alabama State Fairgrounds. In those days it was a real fall state fair with agricultural exhibitions, a grandstand, and a large midway with carnival rides. Kiddieland Park was the small amusement park on the southwest corner of the fairgrounds. Fair Park Drive-In Theatre was at the other end and the Birmingham International Raceway occupied the grandstand area. The Birmingham Crossplex, an athletic facility, occupies the space now.

There were other favorites along 3rd Avenue like El Charro, a Mexican restaurant in a time before there were Mexican restaurants and fast-food joints everywhere. Spinning Wheel was a local chain of ice cream drive-ins. It was close by Lowe’s Skating Rink, a popular spot where my parents had dated. Carnaggio’s had traditional Italian. A unique dining choice where my family was regular was Porter’s Cafeteria, a meat and three on a balcony overlooking a drugstore.

Those places always felt special to me.

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Memory gets burnished with time. And, as time erases remnants, younger generations who were not first-hand witnesses are strained to give credibility to those memories. That’s true of many areas in Birmingham’s West End. Much of the news from 3rd Avenue West is negative these days, but there are still places of pride and plenty of good memories in the western part of town. Rickwood Field’s upcoming moment in the spotlight should help to revive memories of that area’s importance to local history. Perhaps, also, it might inspire further positive development.

Book Review: Magic City

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My review for Magic City by Burgin Mathews was just posted on the Alabama Writers’ Forum website. Magic City, to be released in November, explores the rich heritage of jazz that emerged from the Birmingham area and went on to have national influence. Here’s a preview:

Magic City: How the Birmingham Jazz Tradition Shaped the Sound of America

How to Sidewalk – 2023

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Birmingham’s Sidewalk Film Festival is a festival which packs a lot of action, films, workshops, panels, and parties into a single weekend – the last full weekend in August before college football begins (this is Alabama, after all). The 2023 edition, which ended on August 27, was the 25th Annual Sidewalk. I have been going for most of those years and realized that my Sidewalk tee shirt from 2003 was older than many of the people around me on Opening Night.

In the years before I moved back to Birmingham, I would get a hotel room downtown on Sidewalk weekend, park the car, and walk everywhere. Last year, I tried commuting from my house south of town to downtown for the weekend’s events. In the process, I found that I was missing things I wanted to see.

John Hand Building, Birmingham

This year, I went back to the tried-and-true hotel plan and booked a room at the Elyton Hotel at the “Heaviest Corner on Earth” – the intersection of 20th Street and 1st Avenue N. The “Heaviest Corner” designation is a relic from the early days of skyscrapers and Birmingham’s “Magic City” boom years, when skyscrapers ranging from ten to twenty-one stories were built between 1902 and 1912 on each corner of the intersection. The Elyton is in the sixteen-story Empire Building, catty-corner from the twenty-one story John Hand Building – still one of the most impressive tall buildings downtown.

Before the pandemic and other complications arose in my world, I averaged seeing two or three movies a week in movie theatres. They aren’t made for small screens and I don’t like to watch them on small screens. Now, though, I depend on the annual Sidewalk Fest to splurge. Over the years I have learned “how to Sidewalk” and, to use a much-overused word, I “curated” a list of my weekend movie destinations. In addition to four nights of “Spotlight” films (“Alabama,” “Life & Liberty,” “Shout LGBTQ+,” and “Black Lens”), the festival screens over 300 titles (shorts and features) over three days on nine screens within walking distance in downtown. It’s important to plan, knowing there’s no way to see everything you might want to see. In the early years, I tried to catch as many titles as possible. My record, on a weekend when I saw a lot of shorts screenings, was thirty-two titles under my belt; nowadays, I know what I would be most interested in and draw up a more reasonable and relaxed schedule. I have seven screenings on the list this year.

OPENING NIGHT

After checking in, unpacking, and settling into my room on Friday, I headed up to the rooftop bar, Moonshine, to check out the views. To the south, there are views of the railroad tracks that run through the center of the city, Railroad Park, the sprawling UAB campus and Children’s of Alabama hospital, the Five Points South and Highland Park neighborhoods crawling up Red Mountain, and the ubiquitous Alexander Shunnarah law firm billboard perched atop the old Bank for Savings Building.

To the north, the central city skyline dominates. What stands out for me in that view, though, is how much green is visible in all directions. The Birmingham Green project was started when I was an elementary school student. Now, the tree-lined streetscape of 20th Street provides a shaded promenade to Linn Park and the museums, stadium, and sports and entertainment spaces beyond the City Walk.

After spending time on the roof, it was time to grab dinner and catch a movie.

Art for Everybody, directed by Miranda Yousef; Alabama Theatre

I debated whether to catch the Opening Night film. In the early years of Sidewalk, more challenging films were offered on Opening Night. That seemed to end and go in the other direction after a John Sayles film was the opener and audiences were not pleased. The nadir was an opening night movie about a famous cat on social media. Since then, opening night selections have been more middle-of-the-road, trying to appeal to a wide audience. We all gather for Opening Night and split into our various tribes of film tastes on Saturday and Sunday.

Art for Everybody explores the surprisingly complex rise and spectacular fall of Thomas Kinkade, the “Painter of Light,” whose work was retailed in shopping malls throughout the country. In exploring Kinkade and his following, the film also touches on the national divide in the country. After Kinkade’s death from an overdose of alcohol and drugs, his daughters discover a vault of personal artworks that are completely different from the works he’s known for and cause some art critics to have second thoughts about Kinkade as an artist.

Art for Everybody is a surprise, but the most valuable part of the screening for me was the Q&A afterwards. Listening to director Miranda Yousef during the Q&A, I started to recall the days when I took great pleasure in being a striving creative artist. Yousef’s career in film, primarily as a film editor, has finally led to her directing a surprising and moving work of documentary art about art.

Leaving the Alabama, I was in the middle of the popular Sidewalk Opening Night Party in the street on 3rd Avenue N. Looked like fun, but I headed the two blocks to my hotel and bed.

SATURDAY

Passages, directed by Ira Sachs; ASFA Dorothy Jemison Day Theatre

I was excited to see the latest film by Ira Sachs so soon after reading competing reviews by Richard Brody and Anthony Lane, two film critics for The New Yorker whom I like very much and often agree with. Their reviews of Passages, however, run counter to each other and I was anxious to see with whom I agreed.

Passages presents a disturbing love triangle when Tomas (Franz Rogowski), who is married to Martin (Ben Whishaw), strikes up an obsessive affair with Agathe (Adele Exarchopoulos). The manic Tomas, a demanding film director, is one of the least appealing, most annoying, protagonists I can think of. He is full of cringe-worthy moments and pronouncements, and I wondered why anyone would be willing to put up with him. I didn’t like putting up with him for ninety minutes and was happy it was screened in the morning so I could forget it quickly.

Lane writes, “It’s the unhappiest film I’ve watched in a long while, steeped in Freudian pessimism …” Brody exults “the realm of emotional and sexual freedom that ‘Passages’ explores … is the crucible of imagination, the hallmark of progressive politics, and the essence of art.”

Alrighty then. I am Team Lane on this one.

Free Time, directed by Ryan Martin Brown; Sidewalk Cinema

Free Time is a comedy about a Millennial, about to turn 30. Drew (Colin Burgess) abruptly quits his desk job to find freedom and happiness. His ennui at work turns into ennui on the streets and spurs a movement of Millennials who, lemming-like, follow Drew’s dead-end lead. The amusingly frustrating performance by Burgess carries the movie. It is a refreshing document of a generational moment.

Parachute, directed by Brittany Snow; Lyric Theatre

Actor Brittany Snow adds “writer/director” to her resume with her debut directing effort, Parachute, written with Becca Gleason. Parachute is a look at Gen Z angst, addiction, and dependency that is, surprisingly, not a total buzzkill. In fact, the angsty are also rather charming. Riley (Courtney Eaton), fresh out of rehab for eating, body image, and relationship disorders, meets Ethan (Thomas Mann), a really nice guy with gradually revealed “issues” of his own. From serious subject matter, Snow applies a light touch that treats a serious subject seriously but is never gloomy in the process.

Leaving Parachute, I realized that, without planning to, I chose three narrative features in a row with really frustrating protagonists. Riley makes a series of bad choices and seems to dig herself further into a hole of her own making while a group of steadfast friends try to support her. We root for Ethan to win her over and become more than her “good friend.”

Moonage Daydream (2022), directed by Brett Morgen; Sidewalk Cinema

No frustrating protagonist here. Moonage Daydream, a trippy documentary about David Bowie, was released last year and had a run at Sidewalk Cinema in 2022. Sidewalk brought it back for the film festival audience that packed the house. Sidewalk co-founder and audience favorite Alan Hunter provided some pre-screening comments, including a reminder that he appears in Bowie’s 1990 “Fashion” video, and the tidbit that he and Bowie’s wife, Iman, took an acting class together.

Bowie, always a fascinating figure, moves majestically through Moonage Daydream in all of his personae – from elegant to extreme. Vintage video, performances, interviews, and plentiful music provide a kinetic audio feast, a celebration of a singular, irreplaceable artist.

Moonage Daydream seemed to be the proper way to end a full film-viewing day. Before turning in, I decided to walk a few blocks to a place that my writer friend John T. Edge told me to visit as soon as possible. House of Found Objects is Faizel Valli’s latest venture in downtown following the closure of his very popular Atomic Bar and Lounge. The place is an art installation with a bar. On a crowded night, it was hard to take it all in. John T. Edge wrote a great description for Garden and Gun: John T. Edge Toasts a Birmingham Bar Where Patrons Are the Stars – Garden & Gun (gardenandgun.com)

SUNDAY

I have always loved the quiet of downtown Birmingham on a Sunday morning. It has become a tradition for me for seek out meditative documentaries for my Sunday Sidewalk experience. After checking out of the hotel, I drove around for a while. People were walking dogs, taking morning runs, riding bikes. Birmingham streets would have been deserted not that long ago, before the downtown area became a residential as well as business hub. I like the neighborhood feel of today.

45365 (2009), directed by Bill Ross IV & Turner Ross; Birmingham Museum of Art

The fact that I know the zip code of Sidney, Ohio, tells how big an impression the Ross Brothers’ 2009 documentary about their home town made on me. In honor of the 25th Sidewalk, programmers added screenings of some films that have been shown over the past two-and-a-half decades. 45365 certainly merits a repeat viewing.

45365 chronicles life in a small American city. There is no narration – just an all-seeing camera following the people who live there. There is an occasional visit to the control booth of a local deejay. Most of the characters are only seen for a moment or two, but we feel like we know, have known, them.

I feel comfortable declaring that 45365 is one of my favorite movies of the 21st Century so far. Check out the trailer: 45365 Trailer – YouTube

King Coal directed by Elaine McMillion Sheldon; Sidewalk Cinema

After reading reviews and watching the trailer for King Coal, the documentary by Elaine McMillion Sheldon, I knew it would be the perfect documentary to pair with 45365. Sheldon, who is from West Virginia, explores the coal industry in Appalachia, the mythology and pride that surround the culture, and the hopes for a future beyond coal. King Coal, filmed in parts of several states, deals with the complexity of an industry that has sustained its communities while it also has exploited and destroyed them. At one point, Sheldon says, “I remember learning that if I said anything bad about the King, I was betraying my loved ones.” Watching the film, and remembering a time when Birmingham was dominated and sustained by iron and steel and heavy industry, I understand the conundrum Sheldon addresses in her lyrical and poignant celebration of her home, its past, and its uncertain future. Here’s a preview:

King Coal (2023) | Official Trailer | Full HD – YouTube

There was plenty more to see, but I decided that King Coal was a fitting denouement to a good weekend of viewing. Plus, walking from venue to venue in 96-degree temperatures helped me lose five pounds (another reason to attend this festival).

Those who love movies owe it to themselves to check out future Sidewalks. Years ago, Time listed Sidewalk as one of the “Top 10 Festivals for the Rest of Us.” MovieMaker has cited it many times, including as one of “The 25 Coolest Film Festivals in the World” and “20 Great Film Festivals for First Time Moviemakers.”

No matter what’s going on in my world, I’m always happy I showed up at Sidewalk.

Happy Sidewalk!

“Oh, for a bee’s experience …

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Of clover and of noon!” – “The Bee” by Emily Dickinson

Trying to savor the summer while having some restraints on my activities, I have been thinking a lot about the bees. I have been watching them a lot, keeping in mind alarms about declining bee populations. Specifically, I have been staying at my mother’s house full-time, so I shifted focus from attracting bees to my own small yard in Rocky Ridge to observing the activity around her garden home community on the steep west slope of Shades Mountain.

A late freeze brought the demise of a large loropetalum shrub encircling a tall crape myrtle in Mother’s front yard. When the loropetalum was removed, we decided to plant a variety of blooming and leafy plants in its stead. It turned out to be a good move – with compact bidens, calibrachia, rosemary, vinca, and Japanese painted ferns putting on a frisky, flourishing show beneath the deep crimson blooms of the crape myrtle. I keep a careful watch over the volunteers – some are welcome; others will take over if left alone.

On the porch, a yellow begonia holds court in a hanging container, with lysimachia flowing toward the ground. The large blooms of a braided mandevilla in a unique coral and golden hue are a favorite of my mom’s, but the blooms drop after one day, leaving the plant leafy without flowers on occasion. It shields an always trustworthy heuchera which was joined this year by a lacy volunteer that was just too charming to eliminate. The lacy foliage will wither away in late-fall, but the heuchera, if it acts according to habit, will still be flourishing next year.

As you come into the entry space, a ruellia – commonly called a “wild petunia” and known for an invasive nature – stands confined in a container, grounded by impatiens and lysimachia. Its delicate morning blooms fall off daily, to be replaced by new blooms the next morning. The roses in a bed next to the house have seen better days, but they are hanging in there. Bees, butterflies, and the occasional hummingbird show up and regular rainfall and diligent watering are keeping everything happy so far in the stifling July heat.

But here’s the kicker: There’s a Rose of Sharon in my parent’s backyard that grew from a sprout and is probably in excess of twelve feet now. It’s covered with fuchsia blooms and – at any given time – hundreds of bees. I know Rose of Sharon is a common name used for a number of plants – this one is a hibiscus – but I like the tradition and antiquity of the appellation and plan to use it until the plant police come knocking. Bees have always loved this specimen, but this year seems to be a banner year for its bee population from early morning to sunset. There is a constant low buzz from the tree when we wander into the yard.

Slightly to the side of the Rose of Sharon is a raised bed my dad created. I haven’t had a chance to properly tend to it this year, but it is lush and beautiful in its wildness anyway. Purple heart and yellow lantana grow in a bed with four less-than-stellar rose bushes. The in-ground Easter lilies bloomed late and those plants have taken their time fading away. Like many other plants, the odd weather seems to have confused them; one healthy looking lily has developed three new bulbs (in the middle of July!) but I do not expect them to bloom.

It hasn’t been a great few years for the roses of any kind and my grandfather’s ancient rose bushes, grown from cuttings of the mother plant, have struggled to flower. The hummingbird feeders do not seem as busy as usual, but an occasional hummer is spotted at the feeders and among the bees in the Rose of Sharon. It’s a challenge to keep the bird feeders stocked; it’s a bigger challenge to keep the squirrels away, but Lulu, the prancing chihuahua, likes nothing better than to chase the squirrels. Mourning doves are the primary customers at the feeders, but a pair of cardinals are frequent visitors since late-winter, as are an occasional bluebird and blue jay and a red-headed woodpecker. Wrens and chickadees are also in evidence, I think, but I hesitate to say much since a reader pointed out recently that I don’t seem to know the difference. I pay my annual due diligence to the Audubon Society and the Arbor Day Foundation but I’m not always good at the identification part of the test.

These are the things that inhabit my alternate garden in summer 2023.