MCN Blogs
Kim Voynar

By Kim Voynar Voynar@moviecitynews.com

SIFF Dispatch: Meeting Elmo

We were supposed to go see Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey on Friday, but a schedule conflict caused me to have to push it off to today’s screening. As it turned out, that was a fortuitous turn of events, because at the conclusion of today’s screening, we were promised, there would be a Very. Special. Guest. A guest who was, at that very moment, being driven to the theater from the airport.

Now, I haven’t been to a lot of festival screenings — especially family screenings — where everyone in the audience stays for the post-show Q&A, but as the closing credits rolled, no one so much as dashed out for a quick potty run. Everyone was waiting, breathlessly. Would it be … could it be … Him?

And .. it was Him (er, Them?): The Red One and his Voice. Elmo and Kevin Clash. And the crowd, as they say, went freaking nuts.

If you haven’t seen Being Elmo yet, you’re just going to have to take my word on this for now: The experience of seeing this movie is nothing like what you think it will be like, because it really is an extraordinarily crafted piece of documentary filmmaking about a boy who had a dream and how he stuck with his passion until he achieved it. Director Constance Marks uses some very nicely paced storytelling to guide us through the story of young Kevin Clash, who started making puppets at the age of 10 and ultimately came to work for Jim Henson on Labyrinth and Sesame Street, eventually giving voice to Elmo, the little red monster who loves everyone.

One of the things you really come to appreciate watching this movie is the artistry of these muppeteers as they manipulate pieces of foam and cloth, breathing life into the inanimate. Watch Clash as he deftly manipulates Elmo as if the little red puppet is an extension of his own body, using subtle angles of head and body, minute movements of the mouth and eyes, to convey Elmo’s innocent-child personality.

The other thing you come to appreciate — while watching the film, certainly, but even more so if you get to see Clash in person at a Q&A, is how much of the love and warmth that radiates from Elmo and makes him beloved of so many children comes from some place deep inside Clash himself. You know how some people have an almost palpable aura of positive, loving, happy energy? Clash radiates (I swear, very nearly glows with) love and acceptance and happy-happy feelings. He’s a prophet preaching universal love and acceptance through the friendly, accessible form of a furry, smiling, red monster.

Witness Clash as he stands, rather humbly, waiting for the audience to stop applauding and sit down. He politely, affably answers the questions from the adults — no doubt he’s aware of how many of the younger adults in the crowd especially are here because they themselves were once Elmo-loving kids — but all the time his eyes are roving, roving, seeking out the smallest in the crowd.

He’s completely wired into the energy of the wiggly, squirmy little people who’ve already sat through 90-plus minutes of movie largely geared toward the adults who brought them there, and after a couple questions he abruptly stops and says that it’s time for a little meet-and-greet. “But only the littlest ones right now,” he says, “Elmo will talk to everyone outside after, though.”

He makes his way from tiny tot to tiny tot at the front of the theater, patiently posing for photos as nervous, excited parents fumble with their iPhone cameras. Always, Elmo personally addresses his small fans. “Oh, Elmo loves you!” he croons reassuringly to one teary two-year-old. “Can Elmo have a small kiss?” The little girl nods, lower lip trembling, and tentatively kisses Elmo on the cheek. Elmo gently puts a furry red arm around her, and she embraces him fiercely for a brief second before dashing to hide and peek from behind the safety of her mother’s skirt.

Clash fields a few more questions from the adults — a local puppet maker has brought Clash the gift of one of the first puppets she made herself, and he accepts it with grace and a compliment. Over and over, adults just want to thank Clash for who he is and the joy he spreads. Then staffers clear the theater, promising fans reluctant to depart that Clash and Elmo will meet us outside. And so he does.

For the next hour, maybe more, Clash and Elmo are surrounded by a large half circle of adoring fans patiently waiting their turn to have a picture taken. Clash works the group patiently, tirelessly, directing the flow, making people laugh, connecting. He takes one from this side, then one from that. Everyone plays fair and waits their turn, just like we learned watching Sesame Street.

And it’s not just the kids, either. A tattooed, pierced guy wants a pic of Elmo hanging over his inked bicep. Elmo admires his colorfully inked arms, and the guy beams. Again and again, adults and children alike get their turn to get their pics taken with Elmo, and when they leave the inner sanctum of the circle, the crowd parts reverently to let them pass. Their faces are aglow, beaming. It’s as though they’ve just seen, or been touched by, something almost holy.

I watch the flux of fans, taking it all in, fascinated, and then suddenly we are at the inner circle and it is our turn. Clash gently takes my daughter Veda by the hand and leads her to the center of the circle. I tell her brothers to go ahead too, so that we don’t take up four turns with individual pictures. I’m ready to just snap a quick shot and get on our way when James Miller, the film’s DP and Constance Mark’s husband, takes my camera and says “No, no, go ahead, you get in the shot too.”

Suddenly I find myself next to Clash and Elmo. I don’t usually get starstruck, but suddenly I’m five years old, a shy schoolgirl. Sesame Street memories, part and parcel of my own very earliest awareness of a world wider than the place in which I lived, flood through me, and I feel a soul-deep stirring of memory and emotion as everything the words “Sesame Street” evoke rushes through me.

Then Clash is moving me into place, expertly directing the shot. “I know exactly how to do this shot,” he mutters to himself, then tells me quietly, “Scoot right in there like that, keep your arm around them to keep them together like that.” Then: “Smile, Mom!” Elmo chortles encouragingly as Clash drapes him over my shoulder.

I am awed, laugh out loud, delighted, and with a flash of understanding I suddenly get, completely, why a male colleague at Sundance was practically teary and giddy when describing his own Elmo/Clash encounter in Park City, wherein Elmo gave a shout-out on video to the interviewer’s young sons.

Then it’s over, we’re done, we all thank Elmo — and Clash — and he favors us with one last warm, shy smile before moving seamlessly onto the next patiently waiting fan. A neatly dressed, gangly teen steps up and shows Clash a photo of himself at age two or three, posing holding his Elmo doll. Clash poses them so that the boy and Elmo mirror the pose in the old photograph, and the crowd murmurs appreciatively. As the circle parts to allow the young man to leave, he glances back at Elmo and Clash once more, and Clash meets his eye and nods, then Elmo waves and yells, “Bye!” A woman asks to see the boy’s picture and he shows it around, but his own eyes are still fixed on Clash, and they are wet with tears. I gather up my own brood, glowing and giddy with Elmo-love and chattering excitedly about wanting to make puppets when they get home.

But for those few minutes, with everyone smiling at each other and cooperating and feeling good, we were all children again on a sunny day on Sesame Street. Elmo and Clash had taken us in those few moments, to that place “where the air is sweet,” brought the message of love and acceptance of Jim Henson and Sesame Street to that little corner of Seattle Center.

Elmo had worked his magic.

4 Responses to “SIFF Dispatch: Meeting Elmo”

  1. Kendahl says:

    Heck, I’m all choked up. Thank you for sharing this wonderful experience so vividly. I’m sad that I wasn’t there to see it, but you’ve almost made me feel as if I was. It’s so nice to see an influential person who embodies so many of the qualities we admire and would like to have ourselves.

  2. Catherine says:

    Oh wow, Clash sounds like a total stand up guy. As someone in the UK I’ll probably never get to meet him, but I am sure as heck going to watch the movie….. :D

  3. hcat says:

    There’s not many celebrities I would actually like to trade places with, but I would think Clash’s life and work would be so fun and rewarding, how could you not be the nicest guy in the world?

  4. Beth says:

    Clash sounds like such a super guy, and what a great career he created for himself. Wonderful photo!

Leave a Reply

Quote Unquotesee all »

Julian Schnabel: Years ago, I was down there with my cousin’s wife Corky. She was wild — she wore makeup on her legs, and she had a streak in her hair like Yvonne De Carlo in “The Munsters.” She liked to paint. I had overalls on with just a T-shirt and looked like whatever. We were trying to buy a bunch of supplies with my cousin Jesse’s credit card. They looked at the credit card, and then they looked at us and thought maybe we stole the card, so they called Jesse up. He was a doctor who became the head of trauma at St. Vincent’s. They said, “There’s somebody here with this credit card and we want to know if it belongs to you.”

He said, “Well, does the woman have dyed blonde hair and fake eyelashes and look like she stepped out of the backstage of some kind of silent movie, and is she with some guy who has wild hair and is kind of dressed like a bum?”

“Yeah, that’s them.”

“Yeah, that’s my cousin and my wife. It’s okay, they can charge it on my card.”
~ Julian Schnabel Remembers NYC’s Now-Shuttered Pearl Paint

MB Cool. I was really interested in the aerial photography from Enter the Void and how one could understand that conceptually as a POV, while in fact it’s more of an objective view of the city where the story takes place. So it’s an objective and subjective camera at the same time. I know that you’re interested in Kubrick. We’ve talked about that in the past because it’s something that you and I have in common—

GN You’re obsessed with Kubrick, too.

MB Does he still occupy your mind or was he more of an early influence?

GN He was more of an early influence. Kubrick has been my idol my whole life, my own “god.” I was six or seven years old when I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, and I never felt such cinematic ecstasy. Maybe that’s what brought me to direct movies, to try to compete with that “wizard of Oz” behind the film. So then, years later, I tried to do something in that direction, like many other directors tried to do their own, you know, homage or remake or parody or whatever of 2001. I don’t know if you ever had that movie in mind for your own projects. But in my case, I don’t think about 2001 anymore now. That film was my first “trip” ever. And then I tried my best to reproduce on screen what some drug trips are like. But it’s very hard. For sure, moving images are a better medium than words, but it’s still very far from the real experience. I read that Kubrick said about Lynch’s Eraserhead, that he wished he had made that movie because it was the film he had seen that came closest to the language of nightmares.

Matthew Barney and Gaspar Noé