Michael, a guy I dated many lifetimes ago, is an actor and independent film-maker. He scored a pretty big indie hit with his first film (that he directed, acted in, and wrote – boy is amazing!!) Kwik Stop. Roger Ebert took notice of it, reviewed it extremely favorably, and has been a huge supporter of Michael ever since. Ebert chose it for his Overlooked Film Festival, in 2002. Scroll through to see pictures of Gilio in action.
On June 14, the DVD of Kwik Stop will be released – and I’m so excited. For any Chicago-ans, Roger Ebert is hosting a screening of it, and here are the deets:
June 29, at the Gene Siskel Film Center You can purchase tickets there.
Michael is a man who has a permanent place of affection in my heart. He is a true gentleman, so sharp, (don’t EVER lie to this guy), he’s a pain in the ass, a kick-ass disco dancer, and just plain old awesome. He’s also a babe. We met when we were both in a play in Ithaca – an insane out-of-town experience which we still laugh about to this day. One of our shared passions was the films of John Cassavetes. When we discovered that about one another, we felt like we were ancient-day Christians, members of a sacred and bizarre little sect that nobody else understood. We talked about Cassavetes and his muse, Gena Rowlands, for hours. We didn’t date for long, only a couple of months, but that was it. We were friends for life. For example, we lost touch for a couple of years. I was in grad school, he was busy … we lived in different cities … but when September 11th happened, he called Mitchell to get my new phone number, and left me multiple messages on that first day of trauma … which, of course I did not get. When I finally picked up all of my messages when my phone worked again, and I heard the 70+ messages I received on that one day (I’m not kidding … it was a voice mail system I paid for, so there was unlimited space) … I felt like my heart would burst. And there was Michael’s voice, a couple of different calls over that day and the next. “I have no idea why you would be down in the financial center, because you’re an actor … but … just call me … okay? I’m sure you’re fine, but just call me.” Major phone problems for a couple of days, I could not get through to anyone, but he kept trying until I was able to call him back a couple days later. Friends for life, man.
One of the main things I recall, is my last night in Chicago, before taking off to New York to start my new life here. And he showed up at my house at midnight, to say good-bye. It was a soft quiet end-of-summer night. I lived a couple blocks from Wrigley Field with Mitchell. Although Wrigley Field is, of course, a hubbub of madness, we lived on a quiet side street, right behind the old Music Box Theatre on Southport. A beautiful tree-lined peaceful street. I visited it during my last trip to Chicago, and just walked up and down it, soaking up all my memories. I remember that tree … Look at my old little stone porch where we used to sit and have coffee … There’s my old bedroom window in the alley where M. used to come and basically break into my room, because he was a lunatic, and he didn’t know about doorbells. There was that lush garden I remember from next door. God, that street … so much life lived on that street.
My last night before I left, before I ripped up my Chicago roots and moved back east, was full, and sad, and rich. I went out to dinner with my core group of friends. Michael had been invited but he couldn’t show. He had been vague in his refusal: “Maybe I’ll be able to make it … I might be done in time …” I knew that this probably meant I wouldn’t see him before I left. But there was too much else to be glad about, to be thankful for, to have regrets. We all sat around outside, and had pizza, and beer, and talked. Everyone at the table told their favorite Sheila story from Chicago. (And there were many.) We laughed until we cried. Sometimes we just cried. A beautiful acknowledgment, and a perfect way to close. Close it up. It was achingly difficult for me to leave Chicago, but I had to. Saying goodbye to my community of friends was painful. But we did it the right way. We didn’t rush it, or pretend it wasn’t happening, or try to smooth over the moment with trite, “Oh, we’ll all still be friends”. Of COURSE we’ll all still be friends, but it cannot be denied that the dynamic will change.
Our night ended, and we all parted ways. Mitchell and I came home to our quiet leafy-shaded side street. I think Ann Marie was with us, too. It was so quiet. There was a melancholy in the darkness, a piercing bittersweetness … but there was also joy. The kind of joy that is unbearable. I sat on the front porch, drinking grape ginger ale … why do I remember that? I don’t know. I never drink grape ginger ale but for some reason that night I was … and every time I see a big ol’ bottle of it at Pathmark I think of my last night in Chicago. Ann and I sat on the front steps in the dark. We were quiet. We were going to see each other early early the next morning, since she was helping me pick up my rent-a-car at, oh, 5 oclock in the morning. There was just the darkness, and the quiet. I wanted to soak everything in, imprint every single physical sensation onto my brain. Forever. My wind chimes. God, those wind chimes. The thick grass of the front yard. The plaintive Meows of my insistent codependent cat Samuel who had legs like a supermodel’s. He could not BELIEVE that I was sitting outside, RIGHT IN HIS PLAIN VIEW THROUGH THE WINDOW … and he couldn’t come out and join. He was out of his mind with jealousy and impotent rage. The night was cool. And you know what? I think I did a good job with “soaking everything in”, because I remember every sensory detail. I can close my eyes and conjure up that street, that night, the feel of the soft night air on my skin, the taste of the grape ginger ale …
The street was empty, but at some point, I became aware of a lone figure approaching. He was in shadow, dark, but I knew … I knew it was Michael. He had come to see me off. At midnight. I was barefoot, I jumped up and ran down to meet him, my heart in my throat, my soul on the OUTSIDE of me … We hugged and hugged and hugged, and Ann Marie quietly slipped away to leave us alone. We had stopped dating about a year prior to this point, but that was no matter. There was a powerful thing to say good-bye to here. We both knew it. I was so glad he showed. So glad. It just made everything perfect, complete, a closed circle. No ragged edges for my departure. And we sat on my front porch, and we drank ginger ale, and we talked about … I can’t even really remember. Not too many words were said, actually. What was said was brief and tender and poignant. He kissed me for what felt like an eternity. Lost in each other. I won’t ever forget that last night. I felt looked after, cared for, like … things were okay. It was okay I was leaving. It was hard, but it was okay. And seeing him strolling towards me in the darkness, showing up after the crowd had dispersed … showing up for his own private good-bye … It was good and right. Maybe Michael knew that a group event, a group dinner, wouldn’t have been appropriate for the two of us. We could never have said what we needed to say in that environment, we could never have completed our own little special circle.
I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, and when I received the promotional email from him today, I felt a burst of gladness. I am always glad to hear from him, and no matter how long it has been … how many years has gone by … when I hear from him, I get that same sensation of when I caught a glimpse of his shadowed figure coming towards me on that last night, and I leapt up and ran to him in my bare feet. Unafraid to show him my joy, unafraid to let him know how happy it made me that he had come … I didn’t have to hide my intensity with him, I never did. He was all about that intensity, he loved it.
Oh, and did I mention what an incredible disco dancer he is?
Anyway, I’m going on like this because I’m happy for him, and I want to spread the good word about his good film.
Here are what some of the reviewers had to say about Kwik Stop:
“Kwik Stop is one of the unsung treasures of recent independent filmmaking. On a weekend when $400 million in slick mainstream productions are opening, this is the movie to seek out.”
Roger Ebert
Chicago Sun-Times
“Michael Gilio’s marvelous Kwik Stop is a funny, evocative and constantly suprising low budget anti-road movie. One of the year’s best American Indies; you won’t forget it soon.”
Michael Wilmington
Chicago Tribune
“Michael Gilio’s Kwik Stop might not only be the best road movie in years, but also one of the best movies of the year, period.”
St.Louis Post Dispatch
“A very funny black comedy.”
New York Post
“A gently humorous tale. Kwik Stop is a showcase for talented writer-director and lead actor Michael Gilio.”
Hollywood Reporter
“Frequently endearing picture’s handful of indelible scenes, generally strong performances and uniquely arrhythmic pacing suggest some audiences may take to it as a cult event.”
Variety
“There are so many curves and anomalies in this unpredictable and at times cryptic independent feature that I’m tempted to call it an experimental film masquerading as something more conventional. There’s no way I can shake off the experience.”
Jonathan Rosenbaum
Chicago Reader
“Kwik Stop is a highly entertaining and refreshing variant on the US indie.”
Senses of Cinema
“By turns infuriating, charming, wistful and annoying. Kwik Stop winds up a touching, if frustrating film.”
FilmThreat
“Kwik Stop differentiates itself from any acknowledged formats and brings forward many mysteries and more questions than answers.”
Diario La Nacion
“Kwik Stop is one of those rare American films that allows itself to ask questions, argue with a reality assumed to be known and aim at a poetics where the false is indistinguishable from the true, thus collapsing the myth of identity on which the American cinema has been built.”
El Alamante Cine
“Kwik Stop is shot with assurance, quirky without ever becoming whimsical, and engagingly acted. A confident, quietly stylish feature.”
New City
June 14: the DVDs make their debut. Definitely check this flick out. Michael Gilio is the real deal. He always was.
UPDATE: My review of Kwik Stop here.
Cool. Netflix has it. I’ll check it out.
Cool!
Wow, what great reviews… and a lovely tribute to Michael in your description of that night in 1995. Maybe we’ll try to head over there on the 29th. Sounds like a really good movie!
Ann:
“So … are you guys doing death masks today … or …?”
Oh and yeah, Ann, you should totally go. I’m considering flying in for it.
Damn – June 29 is a Wednesday. I can’t go. Oh well. Maybe there’ll be a NYC screening too.
Kate (your comment was accidentally deleted by me …):
Member how you tried to weasel out of saying goodbye to me??
hahahaha