Monday, 6/2/97 Projecting enthusiasm part of job description
Film projectionist recalls joy of abetting audiences’ escape into
world of movies
By David C. Jedynak Zero Week, Fall 1990. As an eager freshman
looking forward to all the fun of college life that my older
siblings had told me about, I wandered over to Ackerman Grand
Ballroom (AGB) with a few other freshman to watch the $1.50 double
feature. It was Sean Connery week, with "The Hunt For Red October"
and "Goldfinger." Having worked at a movie theater in high school,
running the projectors among other things, I couldn’t help but
notice that the focus was a little soft around the edges while I
watched the film. I proceeded to find my way up to the projection
booth (no easy task) and introduced myself to the projectionist.
After talking for a bit, I helped him get the focus a little
tighter (it’s tough from 175 feet away). He told me that he was
graduating soon, and they needed a replacement projectionist. By
February 1991, I was working for ASUCLA as a projectionist for AGB.
Except for the five quarters I took off from school around ’93-’94,
I’ve been up there every week running the shows. When I was little,
one of the things that I loved was going to the movies. One thing I
loved more was seeing the projectionist look out the window before
the film. I’d always smile and wave, and occasionally I’d get a
response. It was so cool. That person up there was providing me
with entertainment. It didn’t matter that hundreds if not thousands
of people had worked years on making the film – it all came down to
that one person upstairs. If he screwed up, it wouldn’t matter if
the film was good or bad – the experience would be ruined. That’s
an awful lot of pressure on one person, and when I first started
running projectors in high school, I was aware of that pressure.
The thing I never expected was the payoff. Usually before I started
a show, I’d take a look out the window of the booth and see a
little kid looking back up. The first time that happened, as I
waved and smiled, it hit me. I realized that I loved what I was
doing. Over the years, I’ve seen tens of thousands of people come
in and out of the different theaters I’ve run. While taking a break
from UCLA, I managed one of the theaters in Westwood. For the last
few years, I’ve just been running midnight shows in Westwood and
the occasional big films ("Independence Day," "Star Wars" and
others) in addition to running AGB and going to school.
Occasionally, it gets a little stressful, and sometimes I start to
feel a bit burnt out. "Too much film … Too much film …," is
what I start muttering to myself at 4 in the morning while getting
a film ready to go after a long week. But what always picks me up
is seeing the faces of the people coming in and going out of the
theater. The smiles are what makes it all worth it. If you’ve been
to AGB, you’ve probably seen me looking out the booth window
watching everybody leave at the end of the film or poking around
the stage before the film starts, making sure everything is ready.
A few people wave or say hello, but most people don’t notice, as it
is with most things in life. I’ve come to realize that there are
people all over this world who absolutely love what they do, like
me, and that there are people who hate what they do. In those times
when I think I never want to see a projector or film again, what
brings me back are the smiles. Not just the smiles of appreciation
from the people who understand and appreciate the fine art of film
presentation, but the smiles from all the people who haven’t a clue
that there are projectionists, much less know what they do.
Everything we do in this world affects others in some way. It’s
chaos theory. If you pull up to a drive-through window and have a
cordial attitude towards the person inside, chances are it’s going
to rub off on them and from them onto the next person they see,
even if they hate their job. I know this sounds a bit goofy, but it
happens all the time. Look at politics (at any level), for example.
Politicians depend on the ability to sway the emotions of the
voters. Political debates become heated and aggressive. Numerous
people lose interest in politics because it doesn’t make them
smile. For the most part, there is no payoff. Politicians, leaders
and workers everywhere have lost sight of the work ethic. Do your
best. Not only for your own sense of accomplishment, but for all
those around you. It’s impossible to please everyone, but there is
reward in trying, even if what you do is silly and unimportant.
After years of generally meaningless, serious campus politics at
the University of Wisconsin, Madison (where my dad taught and
siblings went), the Pail and Shovel party emerged in the late ’70s
to ease the mood and increase the fun. Plastic pink flamingos on
campus, a full-scale portion of the Statue of Liberty on a frozen
lake, and other generally meaningless but fun things lightened the
mood in Madison. Those leaders of the Pail and Shovel sought to
increase participation, and they were successful. One went on to be
mayor of Madison and another to co-create Mystery Science Theater
3000. This sort of college experience brings me back to Fall 1990.
When I got to UCLA, I was thrilled to see that student funds went
to pay for general student activities, like weekly films in AGB and
big Halloween events in Ackerman Union. Lately, however, I’ve
noticed large chunks of student funds going into very narrowly
targeted events and issues. I refuse to cite examples because I am
not trying to point a finger at anyone but to describe an entire
trend. In the search for diversity, students have found themselves
more and more isolated from those with whom they diverge. One of
the few campus activities where student funds are spent that
achieves any sort of random sampling of the student body is a film.
When you’re out watching the next big blockbuster, take a look at
the people around you. They’re all different. They’re all there to
be entertained, provoked, excited, affected and enriched in some
way. In times of tensions and struggles, the highest priorities
ought to be the little things that rub off. Smile at the next
person who serves you and thank them. Smile at the next person you
serve and thank them. We are all providing each other with valuable
services. Go to a movie, a concert, a sporting event, whatever, and
enjoy the experience and share that with the people around you.
Smile at the person sitting next to you, no matter who they are.
Life is a shared experience. It never hurts to practice. I’m
indebted to the leaders of the Campus Events Commission over the
years for providing me not only with a steady work schedule but the
chance to be a part of something positive that affects all sorts of
people. My gratitude also goes out to all the other people who have
worked to make the films possible, such as those who set up all the
chairs, the ticket sellers, event planners and the general staff. I
am also extremely grateful to all of you who have come to the films
to be a part of the shared experience. One of my favorite lines
from a film is in "Grand Canyon," when Steve Martin says, "All
life’s riddles are answered in the movies." Well, if all the
answers are there, or at least some of them, then I’m glad I have
been a part of that. Jedynak is a graduating senior in electrical
engineering and the projectionist at Ackerman Grand Ballroom.