In 1986, when I came to The Inquirer, 176 films were released commercially in Philadelphia. There was time to see a movie, digest it, and write about it. By 2010, the number had nearly tripled: 510 films were released. Even seeing 300 annually, I couldn't begin to keep up.
For the last few years, I've felt like Lucille Ball in front of the candy conveyor belt: The chocolates were whizzing by so fast that I couldn't wrap 'em or chew 'em quickly enough - and I sure couldn't digest 'em. It's time to step back to fully assimilate the 7,500 or so movies I saw on my watch here.
In my first 12 months on the job, I reviewed John Huston's last feature and Spike Lee's first.
I doubted that David Fincher had a future when I saw Aliens 3, and I was thrilled to be proven wrong with Fight Club, Zodiac, and The Social Network.
I doubted that Drew Barrymore would survive her teens and was delighted she proved me wrong with Ever After, Fever Pitch, and Whip It.
I saw the number of women filmmakers rise from less than 1 percent to more than 7 percent. (And I saw Kathryn Bigelow become the first woman to win an Oscar for direction.)
I was perplexed that as culture became increasingly globalized, foreign films distributed in America fell from 7 percent to 0.75 percent of the total.
I was amazed to witness a boom in American independent filmmaking, particularly in documentary.
I saw many movie theaters mothballed, others rescued, multiplexes proliferate, and the home-video generation replaced by the on-demand generation.
My Inquirer tenure coincided with a transformational period in moviemaking and exhibition globally and a golden age for filmmaking and film culture in the region.
