Greg GottCredentialed
"I don't know what to do with my hands."
So, this one’s going to be very sincere and sentimental. Sorry in advance.
For those who don’t know (or need a refresher), I grew up in Queens and later New Jersey, coming into the city, seeing Broadway shows, eating way too much food at Junior’s and trying to convince my parents to take me to ESPN Zone and/or the gigantic Toys "R" Us. I eventually went to college for journalism1 at Indiana University and then started grad school at Columbia University.
Although insanely expensive, downright unlivable in the peak of both summer and winter and a claustrophobic hellscape depending on the day, I love New York City so damn much and find myself often becoming a one-man tourism board for everything it has to offer.
I moved to Manhattan right as MoviePass2 was taking off, and because everything else was so much money, I became a frequent flyer at movie theaters of all shapes and sizes across the five boroughs. Well, not Staten Island. Let’s be serious for a second.
I saw Thoroughbreds by myself (there was literally no one else in the theater), finagled tickets for a friend and me to get into the Dunkirk premiere and may or may not have seen The Disaster Artist in 4DX3 while also ridiculously high … as it was intended to be seen.
If anyone were to ask me what my favorite thing in New York is, I would simply tell them that it’s the New York Film Festival, an annual pilgrimage to Lincoln Center (and accompanying theaters across New York) to see what’s new, hobnob with fellow film-obsessives and even once sit next to Katie Holmes while watching Marriage Story.
Over the years, I’ve been able to attend a deranged Parasite premiere, If Beale Street Could Talk at the Apollo Theater and even a drive-in showing of On the Rocks during peak pandemic times. I’ve seen early showings of Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Titane, Burning, The French Dispatch, The Killer and many, many others.
So, let’s get to it. This is all a lead-up to some good news.
Well, I’ll just let you read it.
That’s right.
I’ll be covering the New York Film Festival (for Betches!) this year, going to press screenings, writing about new movies and hopefully bringing some insider reports back to you, my countless—well, I can count them; I just don’t want to—Aerial Shot readers.
It’s very, very, very, very, very cool. And it feels like the culmination of something. I’m still not totally sure this isn’t a mistake. And yet, I definitely feel like this is warranted. If Greg Gottfried isn’t a NYFF zealot, I don’t know who out there would qualify.
It’s a bit overwhelming when I start to think about the premieres, from the Renate Reinsve-Joachim Trier The Worst Person in the World follow-up to a new Daniel Day-Lewis movie to George Clooney and Adam Sandler in a Noah Baumbach film to It Was Just an Accident to If I Had Legs I’d Kick You to No Other Choice to Sound of Falling to After the Hunt to … well, you get the point. I’m excited.
This will be my first (and hopefully not last) time covering a film festival, and I’m looking forward to sharing what I learn (and what I don’t) with you in this here newsletter. I’m not totally sure what to expect, which is both terrifying and the reason we do things, I guess.
Anyway, that’s what’s happening right now. And thanks to Ben for the following text, which I not so shamelessly stole for the headline to this post, and perhaps my memoir someday.
Umm, so, yeah. I’ll see you at the New York Film Festival. I’ll be the one smiling incessantly.
a booming industry
still the dumbest/best idea