Sound and Image: Warhol's Screen Tests

On my way to the Food Bank this morning, I passed the Andy Warhol Museum. As others around me said things like "That looks interesting!" and "I want to go there soon, will anyone go with me?", I lightly chuckled. Warhol is all too familiar to me. When I see the museum's front doors and Andy's face in the gift shop window, my mind races a hundred thoughts per second. 

I think of my middle name, Andrew. I think of my parents, whose first date was at his grave site. I think of glaring at his face in the lobby during Duquesne orientation week, my first breath of real independence. 

I think of Dean and Britta.

"But Julian, why would Andy Warhol remind you of an indie pop duo from New York City?"

Because of the connection between sound and image.

This is one of the 13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests. A video of Lou Reed drinking a bottle of Coke, shot by Warhol in 1966, is accompanied by Dean and Britta's "Not A Young Man Anymore." Warhol would film celebrities doing ordinary things, calling them "screen tests." Reed's is arguably the most iconic of them all.

The Warhol Museum approached Dean and Britta about recording a group of songs to accompany the screen tests in order to enhance aural pleasure. They succeeded, because now, the two go hand-in-hand.

The rougher clips, like Reed's (rebel shades, messy hair), are immortalized by rock n' roll power chords and Dean Wareham's scale solos. The more gentle images are given tender care by Britta Phillips' soft voice.

By mixing sound and image, Warhol's visual art is brought to life, while Dean and Britta's music enters a whole new realm of meaning and emotion.

All of the screen tests can be found on Youtube, but for a more personal experience, Dean and Britta are bringing the 13 Most Beautiful to the Warhol Museum's theater on November 8th. You can purchase tickets here: http://www.warhol.org/webcalendar/event.aspx?id=6966

One Single, Lonely Screen

1449 Potomac Ave. Dormont's Hollywood Theater. Circa 1933.

It's not just a theater. It's a landmark.

Enter through the front doors and you'll be greeted by a smiling clerk, the gateway to a night of endless popcorn joy. Yell out your favorite movie lines and you'll be eagerly accepted rather than arrogantly shushed. Crowd the balcony rows with your best buddies and you'll have a night to remember.

But one thing you won't see: a line of people experiencing the same thing. At least not anymore.

My father, who worked at the theater from 1988 to 1990, saw the theater when it was in its finest state. He grew up in Dormont in a time when the Hollywood was the area's social center. It was always crowded. It was always playing first-run movies. It was the perfect place to go to hook up with friends and catch a movie.

"It had a neighborhood charm to it," says my dad. "There were three movie theaters within walking distance, and they were all single-screen movie theaters. That was the day of neighborhood movie theaters."

Oh, how things have changed. 

Now, neighborhood charm doesn't matter one bit. Jared Lanier, a computer programmer recognized as the father of virtual reality technology, proposes that convenience is a consumer's main priority, and that this will bring movie theaters to the antiquity stage.

"As for theaters, I wish them a long, healthy continued life, but imagine a world in which a superb fifty-dollar projector can be set up anywhere, in the woods or at the beach, and generate as good an experience. This is the world we will live in within a decade," Lanier writes in his manifesto, You Are Not A Gadget. 

So how does a single-screen movie theater like the Hollywood survive in the digital age? Sadly, it can't. The only thing that is keeping the theater open is the Friends of the Hollywood Theater (FOHT), a group of volunteers who have put incredible amounts of time and money into maintenance. 

Recently, the Hollywood Theater made an appearance in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a movie shot in Pittsburgh. The film's characters participate in a lively showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a cult flick frequently shown in the theater.



In the scene, the theater is packed, and rightfully so (the movie takes place in the '80s.) It makes me sad. My dad says the place used to have energy.

Not anymore.

In a few years, people will pass the vacant Hollywood Theater and say, "I remember." Ironically, those will probably be the same people who have Netflix subscriptions and BitTorrent accounts. You know, the evil creatures that are putting iconic theaters out of business.

For now, enjoy it while it's here. Pick up your girlfriend, park on Potomac, grab some popcorn, and cherish the mystique before it's gone.