Not surprisingly, the CMJ/PopRally screening of Frank & Cindy at MoMA was by far the best (and most intimidating) festival experience for me so far.
I must admit I was knocked for a loop, and this was partly due to the fact that the theater was three times bigger than I expected, and almost completely full. I had also been wrangling Frank and Cindy all night, trying to keep my mom’s nerves calm and Frank out of trouble. About five minutes before the panel Frank snuck into the bathroom at MoMA and from what I can tell smoked a cigarette. So despite an amazingly responsive audience, most of my time during the screening was spent trying to keep my parents in one place.
Now I like to consider myself a Q&A pro, but by far the most intimidating part of the evening was being interviewed onstage by Ira Glass, himself. Despite my involvement with the TV episode of This American Life, Ira had never actually interviewed me, and particularly not live in front of 400 people. it was intense, and I realize now that I put a lot of pressure on myself to be poignant, thoughtful, witty, and all the things one would expect from something related to This American Life… I only managed to make myself terribly nervous.
Frank and Cindy reacted in their own separate ways. I could tell that Cindy was also feeling the pressure, wanting to make it clear to the audience that she was a decent person and a loving mother. So she really played up the “Oh, I just felt terrible when I saw the film” comments, which I worried might come across the wrong way… that it seemed she didn’t like the film, or felt exploited. From what I can tell, Cindy is very happy now about the documentary and its done wonders for us as a family. She is so dedicated to me, I think she just freaks out sometimes because she wants to do a good job for my sake.
Frank, on the other hand, took my mom’s advice to drink four bottles of white zin before the screening, and was doing something of a standup comedy routine, punctuated by hilarious lapses in his train of thought. He didn’t seem as pressured to be poignant as Cindy and myself, and I think its for the better. Frank’s Buddhism of the Bottle and his complete disregard for what people think of him is always amusing and even inspiring.
The party afterwards was great, I only felt bad for Ira, who was trying to make it out the door while being followed by people telling him their ideas for radio episodes. I was so appreciative that he was part of the screening I chased him down the street myself, just to thank him. I may or may not have wept in his arms, I won’t tell.
Later, I couldn’t help but observe that I’m so similar to my mother! I’m prone to obsessive anxiety. I think the both of us spent the next week replaying our comments in our heads and wishing we had done better. Which is silly, because that screening was breathtaking, and I’m so grateful to everyone who had a part in making it happen.
G.J. Echternkamp, Director, Frank and Cindy
About Frank and Cindy
When Cindy married a rock star, Frank, in 1983 she imagined a life of glamour and GRAMMYS. But the song that propelled Frank to fame, Whirly Girl, would be the only chart-topper from his short-lived group, OXO. Years later, out of shape and nearly bankrupt after spending his money on “gas, food, dry cleaning and drugs.” Frank is not the vision Cindy married.
Desperate to resuscitate her dream, Cindy furnishes a new studio for Frank in hopes he’ll record another hit. Instead, he’d rather drink. Upset by his lack of ambition, Cindy berates him incessantly (”I hate every fat bone in your body!”). And now, twenty-three years after appearing on American Bandstand, Frank lives sequestered to the basement where he uses coffee cans as his improvised bathroom.
Both appalled and amused by his parents’ behavior, Cindy’s filmmaker son, G.J., picks up his video camera and aims it at them. After a year of filming, what began as an attempt to mock his one-hit-wonder step-father, instead becomes a candid portrait of the pursuit of happiness.
