Short, Quirky, and Totally in Control

The Texas Documentary Tour: Four Films From Tom Palazzolo

When the Austin Film Society asked documentarian Tom Palazzolo to send pictures of himself, they received a handful of offbeat, compelling portraits, like the two featured here. In addition to photography, Palazzolo's interests include lithography, painting, and, of course, film. My religion is art, he says, and my philosophy is art.
When the Austin Film Society asked documentarian Tom Palazzolo to send pictures of himself, they received a handful of offbeat, compelling portraits, like the two featured here. In addition to photography, Palazzolo's interests include lithography, painting, and, of course, film. "My religion is art," he says, "and my philosophy is art."

Chicago filmmaker Tom Palazzolo says he's considered "sort of a hippie icon" in his adopted hometown, even though, he points out, at age 63, residing in the "middle-class heaven" that is suburban Oak Park, he's hardly living the hippie lifestyle and, actually, never really did. "I come from a religious background," he says, a tongue-in-cheek reference to his checkered career as a Catholic school student growing up in St. Louis. "I guess the reputation comes from having done all these quirky little films. They consider me the grandfather of nutty, crazy filmmaking or," he deadpans, "at least, of low-end filmmaking."

The four short Chicago documentaries that Palazzolo is bringing to the Alamo Drafthouse next Wednesday, Dec. 6, for the Texas Documentary Tour are nothing if not quirky: "Jerry's Deli" (1976), a nine-minute profile of Jerry, the outrageous Seinfeld-esque Chicago deli owner (picture a bossier Soup Nazi); "Enjoy Yourself -- It's Later Than You Think," a 25-minute day at the park with the old folks; "Ricky and Rocky" (1972), time capsule fodder actually shown in anthropology classes about a working-class couple's surprise backyard bridal shower, complete with obligatory blender and MixMaster gifts; and "Marquette Park" (1976), a cinéma vérité, fly-on-the-wall's view of the reaction of white residents to a black march in their neighborhood, including the backstage machinations of the local Nazi party. These films, says the self-taught Palazzolo, were made during his filmmaking "heyday" starting in '73. In an oeuvre that covers the experimental landscape, including a mid-Sixties-era stint as a Censor Board-baiting member of the Chicago Underground, these docs are his "straightest ones," the ones he believes are generally considered his better works -- the ones audiences relate to best.

The other adjective that comes to mind when describing Palazzolo's work is eclectic. Probably the only unifying principle in a career that encompasses -- simultaneously -- painting, lithography, photography, film, and teaching all of the above is, well, art. "My religion is art," he says, "and my philosophy is art. It's really sort of a drive that I must do art. I worry that if I don't do all of these things I'll fall into a rut, get stuck."

The art career began at the Ringling School of Art in Sarasota, Florida, because, he recalls, "it was the cheapest school in America, and I didn't have much money." Palazzolo later got into filmmaking when he found a camera laying around, picked it up, and started shooting scenes around Chicago. "I'm the antsy type -- I don't like to sit around my apartment too much. The camera gave me an excuse to get out and roam around this city that I was so taken with," he recalls.

In the past few years, filmmaking has been his main focus. Though he does some painting and printmaking and keeps his day job teaching art history at a few city colleges, it's his films that have attracted the most attention. It was the still photographer in him that drew him to the documentary form, the style he used in the four shorts he's bringing to the Alamo.

Short, Quirky, and Totally in Control

His most recent work is not strict documentary but what he dubs "poetic documentary." Performance art films, for example, with some documentary elements. Or his "I Married a Munchkin" (1994) about Mary Ellen St. Alban, operator of Chicago's The Midget Club bar, a little person married to one of the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz. He attributes his attraction to these subjects to an art historian's fascination with the eccentric subjects of Dutch Masters like Franz Hals. These are "wacky" films that Palazzolo finds audiences have a harder time relating to. But he still plugs away at them, his latest fascination being with Chicago's L. "I've shot a lot of footage in the L -- always looking for stories, collecting stories of people's experience in the L. I'd rather work with obscure material than with a well-known writer or piece of music."

Austin Chronicle: Tell us a little about how you came to the subjects in the four shorts you're showing at the Alamo.

Tom Palazzolo: [On Jerry's] It turned out that Jerry's deli was right next to my film lab, and I'd grab a bit to eat there while waiting for my film to be developed. I noticed how painful it was to be yelled at by Jerry -- but after you'd grabbed your sandwich, you could sit off to the side and observe. I discovered what a hoot it was to watch other people being yelled at by Jerry and decided this would make a great film. I shot the chaos of the lunch rush during the week, and then, to slow the pace of the film down, I filmed him later, talking to the camera.

[On Ricky and Rocky] A friend of mine was looking for a free record of this wedding shower. We thought it would be funny -- with the gifts and all, and it's still used today in anthropology classes, like an America tribal ritual. It sure helps when people react to you in a positive way like they did here. Audiences like these kind of upbeat films.

[On It's Later Than You Think] I've always liked the theatre of the absurd, always liked people put into funny situations. This old folks' picnic was organized by Democrats, and they ran it to get votes. I always liked the color in the women's dresses -- they were very colorful. In Chicago, people usually dress drably because of the weather. I like there to be a little tug at the emotions in a documentary, some funny situations, like the pie-throwing contest -- and a little sad touch, like the fact there are so few men left among these women. And I really liked the characters; I like films that are kind of a broad picture of society that show a spectrum of people.

[On Marquette Park] I'd shot a little of one of the Nazis' events, and the Nazis like publicity. In my situation, I can't offer people money, but if I go to third-rate events, I can always get people to cooperate; they love the attention. I had photographed Frank [the Nazi leader] at his clubhouse giving a speech in front of his big Nazi flag. I was honest with him; I said I would make a straightforward record of what I saw. I wouldn't take sides. He said yes. We knew there would be some violence, some fighting. We always hope for surprises and want to be ready for it. And we'll even try to create some surprises. I like ironic situations, those that are funny in an off way. All these people who are emotional, the Jewish woman who is screaming at the top of her lungs at these Nazis. You can see her anguish, but her screaming is a little bit comic, in a way. It's nice to make the audience wonder about the meaning of a scene. I don't always know what it means, and I don't mind that. I also like the feeling of not being completely in control of the documentary film.

AC: Your career and work certainly flesh out the concept of eclecticism, don't they?

TP: It's sort of a drive that I have to do art. I can't explain why I want to do this sort of stuff. I like the independence of doing it, and I'm lucky enough to get a paycheck from the city colleges here. It keeps me alive and thinking. It's wonderful to have projects that stimulate you and that you like to do. It's not even a big issue whether the film is a success or makes any money. I've got my day job. And there's always my three or four friends who'll like my films -- or at least say they do. I don't know whether they're telling the truth. I don't want the truth -- just because I'm a documentary filmmaker doesn't mean I want the truth. end story


Four Short Films by Tom Palazzolo will be presented as part of the Texas Documentary Tour on Wednesday, Dec. 6, 7:30pm & 9:30pm, at the Alamo Drafthouse, 409 Colorado. Filmmaker Tom Palazzolo will introduce the films and conduct a Q&A session following the screening. Advance tickets are available for Austin Film Society members only by calling 322-0145. Tickets will go on sale at 6:15pm the day of the show. Admission prices are $6 per show for the general public; $4 for Austin Film Society and KLRU members and students. The Texas Documentary Tour is a co-presentation of the Austin Film Society, the University of Texas RTF Dept., The Austin Chronicle, KLRU-TV, and SXSW Film.

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KEYWORDS FOR THIS STORY

tom palazzolo, jerry's deli, ricky and rocky, it's later than you think

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