Great idea, Jack.
I'm Mike Gebert, the part of my avatar that is NOT Charley Chase is me, and I'm a freelance advertising copywriter in Chicago, which is why I waste so much time on the Internet.
Growing up in Wichita, Kansas-- where my dad, like everyone else in the oil business, knew Ted Brooks, the oil & gas columnist for the local paper, who had a sister who went off to be an actress and dancer in New York and was a bit of a family scandal-- I became a film buff at an early age and, this being the pre-videotape era, caught whatever I could wherever I could. I saw Modern Times at Wichita's socialist coffeehouse one Friday night when I was about 14; many a silent comedy (or a Flash Gordon serial) I saw at a local pizza parlor, shown on one of those Fairchild projectors which didn't require a projectionist; I rented Blackhawk prints from the local library and watched them in 8mm on my wall; I saw Nosferatu for the first time in a university basement screening room with German titles and a wildly inappropriate modern jazz score. You haven't lived until you've seen Max Schreck boom-chicka-boom-chicka.
At the University of Kansas I ran the film society for three years; and after college, back in Wichita, launched what I called the last new 16mm film society on earth, where among other things, we premiered Diary of a Lost Girl in Louise Brooks' (sort of) hometown with Ted Brooks' daughter (who looked a lot like her) present. At that point my interests were highly eclectic, basically I was just seeing everything I could and showing a wide range to cover all the bases, and that probably remained true until well after I moved to Chicago in 1988; I saw all the latest foreign films, I saw the new Hollywood movies, I saw everything.
Over time though I've really come to identify with, oh, 1915 to 1950 or so, I suppose. I think one of the reasons is that, much as I like German cinema in the 70s, they're
not going to find 10 new Herzog or Fassbinder movies I haven't seen. (Yes, I've even seen
this one, all of it.) But as Bertrand Tavernier said in Film Comment years ago, there's always more to discover in Warner Bros. from the 1930s-- it's a bottomless treasure chest. And if you attend Cinesation or other fests, the same is true of the silent era-- I don't even really pay that much attention to what the particular choices will be before I go, because I never heard of any of them and I know the one that will surprise me and knock my socks off will be completely unknown and completely indistinguishable from the others based on synopsis and credits alone.
It's also true that when I was growing up, the world of the 1920s and 1930s was still visible around me, not all torn down yet. Today I really have to hunt Chicago for living remnants of it (come to town and I'll take you to Orange Garden for mediocre art deco Chinese food) but it still existed in my childhood, and so watching the movies that bring it back to life is clearly Proustian on some level. But I also just admire the craftsmanship, the hightoned wit, the speed and brio of movies and performances back then, compared to so many lumbering dinosaurs today. Yes, the world of 20s and 30s cinema could be blinkered-- there's a point at every Cinevent or Cinesation where I'm just sick of the subject of protecting female virtue-- but our cinema has its own obsessions (as Albert Brooks said, "If aliens are watching our popular culture, they must think we're all cops") and I guess I've cast my vote for theirs over ours, on the whole. Now I have two sons, 9 and 6, and I'm doing my best to raise them the same way. They love Popeye cartoons and Errol Flynn movies and think nobody's funnier than Stan and Ollie. There's hope for the future.
My older son finding a celebrity he recognizes at Grauman's Chinese.