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By Ryan Greis
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Steve Ramos, leaving Las Esquire
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If my life were a movie, the experience resulting from my being banned recently from the Esquire and Mariemont Theaters would go something like this: It's another riot-free day in Cincinnati and I'm walking nonchalantly toward the Esquire for a morning screening. I hold a cup of coffee in one hand and my notepad in the other. I know that the theater is open because I've seen The Enquirer's critic walk into the lobby.
But when I get to the theater's front doors, two cops slam me against the ticket booth and slap a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. The cops toss my coffee and notepad to the pavement. They even smash my pen.
"All right, Ramos," growls one cop, giving his best NYPD Blue imitation. "You're not welcome in this theater. You're uninvited. It's the Justice Center for you."
It's at this moment that I collapse into my civil disobedience position. I cross my legs, Dalai Lama-style. I punch at the air with a raised fist.
"No justice, no movies!" I yell out to a crowd of onlookers watching the cops carry me to a squad car. "Thumbs down to the CityBeat blacklist!"
The crowd quickly joins me in the chants. CityBeat readers just can't say no to a public protest, no matter what the cause.
After working locally as a film critic for approximately eight years, I can honestly say that real life is seldom like the movies. So far, life as a blackballed critic hasn't proven to be terribly dramatic.
My first Esquire screening after the blacklist -- the Brit
caper film Sexy Beast, starring Ben Kingsley
as a ruthless gangster -- occurred on June 21 with no incident.
Of course, it helped that Esquire Theatre operator Gary Goldman,
the
man who banned me, was away, sunning himself in Mexico.
Movie critics and entertainment reporters get blackballed by Hollywood studios and high-powered publicists all the time. Sometimes, it's for giving a big-budget film a scathing review. Other times, it's for writing an unflattering celebrity interview.
In 1993, Sony Pictures blackballed two Los Angeles Times freelancers and threatened to pull advertising for negative investigative stories about its Arnold Schwarzenegger film, Last Action Hero. I suppose that my blacklisting falls somewhere around the Last Action Hero category, albeit on a smaller scale.
On June 6, CityBeat broke the story about Goldman cutting a sex scene from director Wayne Wang's unrated adult drama The Center of the World. Soon after, the word from Goldman's office was that I would be banned from his theaters. After my June 13 column criticizing Goldman's faxed statement explaining his decision for cutting the scene, Goldman confirmed that I was no longer welcome at screenings at both the Esquire and Mariemont Theaters due to the "personal and gratuitous" nature of my columns regarding the controversy. I'd no longer receive any programming information from his office.
I'm not surprised that Goldman decided to pull all advertising for the Esquire and Mariemont Theaters from CityBeat. It's what usually happens when a business gets angry at a newspaper over a story. For added drama, Goldman has also booted the paper's distribution racks from the theaters.
There's never been any debate over the factual accuracy of my columns. I guess it's hard to argue with someone who stood in the Esquire projection booth and held the 5 feet of censored footage in his very own hands.
I'm also not surprised that Goldman has decided only to punish the weekly alternative newspaper. While The Enquirer's movie reviewer has been just as critical of the Esquire controversy, Goldman apparently decided it's not wise to mess with the morning daily. As things stand, I'm Cincinnati's lone blacklisted critic.
At this time, I don't know whether to curse Goldman or thank him for putting some unexpected excitement into my life. While most movie critics struggle to remain relevant, Goldman treats me like I have the power to make or break his theaters.
I'm not about to argue with someone who insists I'm dangerous and influential. The way I see things, you have to be important for somebody to label you persona non grata.
After all of Goldman's huffing and puffing has faded into memory, I'll still be watching and writing about the movies that find their way to Cincinnati. Granted, for the time being, Goldman has made reviewing Esquire and Mariemont films difficult to do in a timely manner.
But my newfound status as a blackballed critic hasn't diminished my love for movies. In fact, I guess you could say it was this love and respect for movies that got me in trouble in the first place.
I don't know if Goldman's intention is to make me some sort of cinematic martyr. It just looks that way. ©
