I Like Killing Flies
Holiday Village Cinema
Sundance Film Festival
PARK CITY -- Pretty much a one-man show (behind and in front of the camera), "I like Killing Flies" is a rare, hilarious and ultimately touching look at the kind of American iconoclast that barely exists anymore. Matt Mahurin's hand-held camera invitingly enters Shopsin's, a Greenwich Village hole-in the-wall where neighbors have been coming for comfort food for the last thirty-five years, and introduces its philosophizing owner, Kenny Shopsin. It's a unique slice of life, and theatrical as well as home vid audiences should respond to Shopsin's curmudgeonly humor and wisdom.
Made semi-famous a few years ago in a New Yorker profile by Calvin Trillin (who appears briefly in the film), Shopsin looks like an overweight Jerry Garcia in T-shirt and red suspenders as he reigns over his tiny kitchen, which offers delicacies such as okra chowder with date nut rice, apple-glazed pancakes and literally hundreds of other self-created dishes.
The kitchen is a tribute to inventiveness with jerry-rigged solutions to dripping faucets and humming refrigerators. As Shopsin cooks at a break-neck pace he dishes out his philosophical musings. He wonders about the meaning of life and then in the same breath asks, "where's the marinara sauce?" The title refers to his fondness for swatting flies, which he turns into an existential riff on foreign policy and terrorism.
Shopsin dispenses the food with love, but it's a tough love, even for his wife and five kids who help him run the place. For instance, he will not seat a party of more than four and is as likely to throw out newcomers as serve them. He considers the restaurant an extension of his home and demands loyalty and respect from his guests. Once they're accepted, regulars relish the show.
The drama of the film comes from the fact that Shopsin has lost his lease and is being forced to move to a newer and bigger spot a few blocks away. But he's a character who doesn't like change, and dislodging the ancient stove and paintings on the wall and giving up the grime that has become the fabric of his life is an occasion for soul searching.
Mahurin was himself a longtime patron who was invited to chronicle the last days before the move. His bare-bones, no frills style (you can see his hand holding a mike in front of Shopsin because there wasn't a boom operator), suits the subject perfectly. The film was shot on a Sony 150 PDA and edited in Mahurin's bedroom. It's rough look matches Shopsin's personality.
Shopsin's foul-mouthed diatribes on life, politics and sex actually make a lot of sense. The patron saint of the place is an action figure of Sigmund Freud posted near the entrance. And hanging out with Shopsin, even for a short time, has the calming, life-affirming joy of a perverse therapy session.
I LIKE KILLING FLIES
MORTAL FILMS
Credits: Director: Matt Mahurin; Producer: Mahurin; Director of Photography: Mahurin; Editor: Mahurin. Unrated, running time 80 minutes.
Sundance Film Festival
PARK CITY -- Pretty much a one-man show (behind and in front of the camera), "I like Killing Flies" is a rare, hilarious and ultimately touching look at the kind of American iconoclast that barely exists anymore. Matt Mahurin's hand-held camera invitingly enters Shopsin's, a Greenwich Village hole-in the-wall where neighbors have been coming for comfort food for the last thirty-five years, and introduces its philosophizing owner, Kenny Shopsin. It's a unique slice of life, and theatrical as well as home vid audiences should respond to Shopsin's curmudgeonly humor and wisdom.
Made semi-famous a few years ago in a New Yorker profile by Calvin Trillin (who appears briefly in the film), Shopsin looks like an overweight Jerry Garcia in T-shirt and red suspenders as he reigns over his tiny kitchen, which offers delicacies such as okra chowder with date nut rice, apple-glazed pancakes and literally hundreds of other self-created dishes.
The kitchen is a tribute to inventiveness with jerry-rigged solutions to dripping faucets and humming refrigerators. As Shopsin cooks at a break-neck pace he dishes out his philosophical musings. He wonders about the meaning of life and then in the same breath asks, "where's the marinara sauce?" The title refers to his fondness for swatting flies, which he turns into an existential riff on foreign policy and terrorism.
Shopsin dispenses the food with love, but it's a tough love, even for his wife and five kids who help him run the place. For instance, he will not seat a party of more than four and is as likely to throw out newcomers as serve them. He considers the restaurant an extension of his home and demands loyalty and respect from his guests. Once they're accepted, regulars relish the show.
The drama of the film comes from the fact that Shopsin has lost his lease and is being forced to move to a newer and bigger spot a few blocks away. But he's a character who doesn't like change, and dislodging the ancient stove and paintings on the wall and giving up the grime that has become the fabric of his life is an occasion for soul searching.
Mahurin was himself a longtime patron who was invited to chronicle the last days before the move. His bare-bones, no frills style (you can see his hand holding a mike in front of Shopsin because there wasn't a boom operator), suits the subject perfectly. The film was shot on a Sony 150 PDA and edited in Mahurin's bedroom. It's rough look matches Shopsin's personality.
Shopsin's foul-mouthed diatribes on life, politics and sex actually make a lot of sense. The patron saint of the place is an action figure of Sigmund Freud posted near the entrance. And hanging out with Shopsin, even for a short time, has the calming, life-affirming joy of a perverse therapy session.
I LIKE KILLING FLIES
MORTAL FILMS
Credits: Director: Matt Mahurin; Producer: Mahurin; Director of Photography: Mahurin; Editor: Mahurin. Unrated, running time 80 minutes.
- 7/9/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
I Like Killing Flies
Holiday Village Cinema
Sundance Film Festival
PARK CITY -- Pretty much a one-man show (behind and in front of the camera), "I like Killing Flies" is a rare, hilarious and ultimately touching look at the kind of American iconoclast that barely exists anymore. Matt Mahurin's hand-held camera invitingly enters Shopsin's, a Greenwich Village hole-in the-wall where neighbors have been coming for comfort food for the last thirty-five years, and introduces its philosophizing owner, Kenny Shopsin. It's a unique slice of life, and theatrical as well as home vid audiences should respond to Shopsin's curmudgeonly humor and wisdom.
Made semi-famous a few years ago in a New Yorker profile by Calvin Trillin (who appears briefly in the film), Shopsin looks like an overweight Jerry Garcia in T-shirt and red suspenders as he reigns over his tiny kitchen, which offers delicacies such as okra chowder with date nut rice, apple-glazed pancakes and literally hundreds of other self-created dishes.
The kitchen is a tribute to inventiveness with jerry-rigged solutions to dripping faucets and humming refrigerators. As Shopsin cooks at a break-neck pace he dishes out his philosophical musings. He wonders about the meaning of life and then in the same breath asks, "where's the marinara sauce?" The title refers to his fondness for swatting flies, which he turns into an existential riff on foreign policy and terrorism.
Shopsin dispenses the food with love, but it's a tough love, even for his wife and five kids who help him run the place. For instance, he will not seat a party of more than four and is as likely to throw out newcomers as serve them. He considers the restaurant an extension of his home and demands loyalty and respect from his guests. Once they're accepted, regulars relish the show.
The drama of the film comes from the fact that Shopsin has lost his lease and is being forced to move to a newer and bigger spot a few blocks away. But he's a character who doesn't like change, and dislodging the ancient stove and paintings on the wall and giving up the grime that has become the fabric of his life is an occasion for soul searching.
Mahurin was himself a longtime patron who was invited to chronicle the last days before the move. His bare-bones, no frills style (you can see his hand holding a mike in front of Shopsin because there wasn't a boom operator), suits the subject perfectly. The film was shot on a Sony 150 PDA and edited in Mahurin's bedroom. It's rough look matches Shopsin's personality.
Shopsin's foul-mouthed diatribes on life, politics and sex actually make a lot of sense. The patron saint of the place is an action figure of Sigmund Freud posted near the entrance. And hanging out with Shopsin, even for a short time, has the calming, life-affirming joy of a perverse therapy session.
I LIKE KILLING FLIES
MORTAL FILMS
Credits: Director: Matt Mahurin; Producer: Mahurin; Director of Photography: Mahurin; Editor: Mahurin. Unrated, running time 80 minutes.
Sundance Film Festival
PARK CITY -- Pretty much a one-man show (behind and in front of the camera), "I like Killing Flies" is a rare, hilarious and ultimately touching look at the kind of American iconoclast that barely exists anymore. Matt Mahurin's hand-held camera invitingly enters Shopsin's, a Greenwich Village hole-in the-wall where neighbors have been coming for comfort food for the last thirty-five years, and introduces its philosophizing owner, Kenny Shopsin. It's a unique slice of life, and theatrical as well as home vid audiences should respond to Shopsin's curmudgeonly humor and wisdom.
Made semi-famous a few years ago in a New Yorker profile by Calvin Trillin (who appears briefly in the film), Shopsin looks like an overweight Jerry Garcia in T-shirt and red suspenders as he reigns over his tiny kitchen, which offers delicacies such as okra chowder with date nut rice, apple-glazed pancakes and literally hundreds of other self-created dishes.
The kitchen is a tribute to inventiveness with jerry-rigged solutions to dripping faucets and humming refrigerators. As Shopsin cooks at a break-neck pace he dishes out his philosophical musings. He wonders about the meaning of life and then in the same breath asks, "where's the marinara sauce?" The title refers to his fondness for swatting flies, which he turns into an existential riff on foreign policy and terrorism.
Shopsin dispenses the food with love, but it's a tough love, even for his wife and five kids who help him run the place. For instance, he will not seat a party of more than four and is as likely to throw out newcomers as serve them. He considers the restaurant an extension of his home and demands loyalty and respect from his guests. Once they're accepted, regulars relish the show.
The drama of the film comes from the fact that Shopsin has lost his lease and is being forced to move to a newer and bigger spot a few blocks away. But he's a character who doesn't like change, and dislodging the ancient stove and paintings on the wall and giving up the grime that has become the fabric of his life is an occasion for soul searching.
Mahurin was himself a longtime patron who was invited to chronicle the last days before the move. His bare-bones, no frills style (you can see his hand holding a mike in front of Shopsin because there wasn't a boom operator), suits the subject perfectly. The film was shot on a Sony 150 PDA and edited in Mahurin's bedroom. It's rough look matches Shopsin's personality.
Shopsin's foul-mouthed diatribes on life, politics and sex actually make a lot of sense. The patron saint of the place is an action figure of Sigmund Freud posted near the entrance. And hanging out with Shopsin, even for a short time, has the calming, life-affirming joy of a perverse therapy session.
I LIKE KILLING FLIES
MORTAL FILMS
Credits: Director: Matt Mahurin; Producer: Mahurin; Director of Photography: Mahurin; Editor: Mahurin. Unrated, running time 80 minutes.
- 1/19/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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