Posted by Repost for Kevin at gatekeeper-w.mitre.org on November 29, 1999 at 14:51:01:
Posted by Kevin at etntwn1-blk1-hfc-0252-d1db060b.rdc1.nj.comcastatwork.com on November 13, 1999 at 12:22:21:
This is something I'd like reposted on every board for the next few months, so if someone would oblige me when the boards turn over, I'd be
appreciative.
It was brought to my attention that a thank you which is supposed to be in the end credits somehow didn't make it. This thank you was to be as
follows...
"Vincent - Without whom, I'd still be watching movies instead of making them."
You all know Vincent Pereira here. He's a very crucial lynchpin in our operation. Indeed, it was Vincent who first presented film to me as something
not just to be viewed. Vincent introduced the possibility of MAKING films to me (so if you hate my shit, blame him).
We were working at Quick Stop at the time. Vincent was, as some may have gathered from the 'Clerks Christmas Special' comic, the mop-boy.
He'd come in at nine every night to mop the floors and stock the milk, but he really aspired to run the video store (granted, he aspired to much more
than just that, but as he was in high school, the video store would have to suffice for the time being). We didn't really speak for the first few months
I worked at the Stop (he preceded me there by a bit), but when we finally struck up a conversation, it was over movies and t.v. - particularly 'Twin
Peaks', which was on at the time.
Vincent was then, as he is now, a HUGE film buff. I loved movies, but I merely loved watching them. Vincent LIVED movies - not just seeing
them, but the technical aspect of film as well; the art. The man knew how movies were made, knew his aspect rations down to the digit, knew the
craft inside and out. In fact, it was Vincent who first introduced me to letterboxing and laserdiscs (I remember arguing with him that a letterboxed
disc wasn't as good as a cropped VHS tape because so much of the image was left off the disc; what can I say - I was then, as I am now, a virtual
idiot when it comes to the language of cinema). Anything I know about film-making I pretty much owe to Vincent (writing I owe to God).
In fact, it was with Vincent that I first trekked into the big, scary city that is New York to see 'Slacker' - the movie that would kick my ass into gear.
We'd go to Manhattan after work on Fridays or Saturdays to devour flicks at the Angelika midnight shows, and lived by the Village Voice movie
time-table (funny story: Vincent and I went to see 'Bad Lieutenant' once, and I put my bag - the thing that I carried money, bills, checks and a
notebook in - in his trunk, as well as a scrapbook I was working on for a friend; when we came out of the theatre at two in the morning and headed
for the car, we saw a box on top of Vincent's car that looked like the box I had the scrapbook in; in fact, it WAS the box - the car had been broken
into, and the thief took everything, but left the scrapbook; the irony is that the notebook in the bag had my earliest rumblings of 'Clerks' in it, back
when it was called 'InConvenience'; I can already hear the detractors saying "That must have been the GOOD version of the script.") Driving home
from those weekend viewings, we'd talk about flicks we'd like to make, dreaming of a career in the field we loved (though, admittedly, he loved it
more).
Vincent was the first person to read the scenes that would become 'Clerks'. He encouraged me to finish the script and shoot it. In fact, Vincent's
responsible for the title. He came up with a list of possible titles based on the pages he'd read (which I still have somewhere). Some of them were
esoteric ('The Man Behind the Counter' - a variation on 'The Man Behind the Sun', a fave flick of his at the time), and some of them were a little on
the nose ('Stupid Customers'). One spoke to me a bit more than the others ('Rude Clerks'); the rest is history.
Point is, I probably wouldn't be doing what I'm doing, were it not for meeting Vincent. He was the first person I'd ever met who aspired to
something that most people thought improbable (most of the cats I knew then lived in the moment; Vincent lived in the future, and dared to imagine
for himself a life in a field most people don't have a chance in). I've long considered the man our official Historian at View Askew. I've long
considered the man a far more gifted director than myself. I've long considered the man a trusted confidant and advisor.
And I've long considered the man one of my best friends.
Which is why I feel like such an asshole that the intended thank you is not up there on the screen at the end of 'Dogma'.
My deepest, deepest apologies, Vincent, for what was a mistake that I should've been on top of. I should've re-read that thank you list one more
time before we shot the credits. I'm a bonehead. My bad.
But know that you're the guy who started it all. You're the guy who I look to for the deciding take sometimes (for any who question this, ask
Mosier; our editing room mantra on every cut was "What's Vincent think?") And while Vincent does have a technical credit on the back end of the
flick, he deserves so much more. Next time, you go first (after God, of course). Promise.
I love you, Vincent, and, again - I'm really, really sorry about the fuck-up. I owe you one.
You know, now that I think about it, 'Stupid Customers' wouldn't have been so bad a title.