Flyerman and Other Delights

I met Flyerman once. Well, okay, I talked to him on the phone, but he was so in my face, we may as well have been speaking in person. In the summer of 1998 at the Beaches Jazz Festival, I was handed a flyer by some daffy guy in a “Flyerman” T-shirt, making a spectacle out of himself, as he bowed his arm so elegantly to lick his thumb, and then CRACK the flyer out of the pile in his other hand to the amused spectator. This piece of paper had a headline, recruiting people to be extras in movies, followed by a long scrawl of film and television titles currently shooting in Toronto, and saying nothing more than to call a phone number at the bottom of the page.

This was during the time when I was a freelance video assist (aka- mostly unemployed, broke, and unable to even collect pogey), and was looking for other part-time work to fill in the gaps when I wasn’t working on set. I shortly called the number and, big surprise, the person at the other end was the same character that handed me a flyer the previous Saturday afternoon. This whole enterprise basically existed as a come-on for him to push his photography studio, where he was charging $150 a session to take pictures of star struck hopefuls- photos that one assumed would get in the hands of casting directors, and not end up in the circular file. Personally, I didn’t think the price was unreasonable, having known the score from previous attempts at doing extra work. (Squint, and you can see my stunning performance in Johnny Mnemonic as Keanu Reeves walks by me.) However, since I hardly had any money coming in, I simply couldn’t spare the cash at that time, and told him I would call him back when I could.

This was all the provocation he needed to go into this big tirade about how people always call, make appointments and never show up, how people have always screwed him over, etcetera. It wasn’t that he was pissed off at me, per se, but my comment was just the catalyst for this man to sound off. After ranting and raving for a few minutes, he ended the conversation with a mild-mannered “So anyway, you call me back.” I hung up the phone, convinced that this guy was a complete lunatic, but at the same time, I had to admire his passion.

Flyerman, the 2003 documentary by Jeff Stephenson and Jason Tan, indeed captures the passion of the man- in this case, the tenacity in building his own dubious image as a “star”. During the “telephone conversation” cited above, he also told me that somebody was making a movie on him, how they did this scene where he popped out of a limo at a film festival gala and waltzed right in, and no one questioned who he was, because if he showed up at a premiere in a limousine, he must be important right? Yes, Flyerman clearly knows how to play the fame game, and quite unsurprisingly, this man who was grooming others for stardom was really the one wanting the fame and fortune.

Jeff Stephenson and Jason Tan had followed their subject (aka Mark Vistorino) around for years. This story of a man who is pursuing the dream of show business would make a great fictional film, with such a colourful lead character, and a serio-comic look at his surreal world. As always, the greatest stories are those in real life. After having made several shorts and one documentary feature, Jeff Stephenson teamed up with cinematographer Jason Tan (who makes his directorial debut here), for a collaboration resulting in an exciting, beautifully filmed, and weirdly moving piece that recalls and stands beside the cinema verité of Allan King.

Made with a minimum of talking heads, and no voiceover, Flyerman instead succeeds in making a purely cinematic documentary, and like the people in Allan King’s A Married Couple, perhaps Flyerman is too aware of the camera and puts on a great show for us. (In a sense, this becomes the Hollywood movie that Flyerman hopes to make.) But that isn’t to say that this film is dishonest. It is so hilariously real- anyone who is trying, yet not succeeding, to make it big in the world, will surely identify with this protagonist. Suddenly, middle age is on the horizon, one is unmarried, childless and still carrying around a costume. It is miraculous that we care so much about an often abrasive man: we’re a lot like Flyerman; we understand his thirst for survival.

The camera follows Mark’s everyday world of cursing out non-committal movie extras who give him the runaround, and his nightlife roaming the bars for some meagre attention. Seeing this film will turn one off a quest for stardom, as there is always conflict in his. Trying to get a regular guest appearance on a morning radio show becomes the Battle of Algiers. He is constantly at war with his parents (his father has financially supported him), who grow weary of his chasing stardom, and having nothing more to show for it than a night with an anonymous hooker.

Seeing this film is truly the work of movie magic. Because a few years of Flyerman’s life is condensed into 90 minutes, it is astonishing to see this man change physically and spiritually. We begin with the goofy gangly 37 year-old man-child with a loud suit jacket handing out flyers in the subway, cursing and hollering at everyone, and then resolve with a more mellow, platinum-haired 41 year-old Mark Vistorino, well-fed and not so quick to put the “F” word before his Christian name. It unfolds like an epic, as people seen early in the film have left him, or passed away.

After having made this remarkable documentary, Jeff Stephenson was coined by the local indie newspapers as a talent to watch. He then made a pair of shorts at the American Film Institute (where he received his masters degree). This interesting career move is not necessarily a backward step; it feels that he is just further honing his craft.

The first of these, Moving In (2004) is a decent, pleasant if not overwhelming comedy-drama, with twentysomething roommates Brad (Paul Bartholomew) and Scotty (Jeremy Kent Jackson) having their final game of “Battleship” on their “last night” as real men, because Brad’s girlfriend Tina (Elizabeth Ann Bennett) is moving in. And how. Suddenly the kitchen is full of “her mugs”, and the bed is elevated higher from the floor, all subtle ways in which she is making life better “for both of us”. Naturally, Brad sees these changes as an affront to his male ego, and vainly spends the rest of the film trying to exert his X chromosomes. And then, the coup de grace occurs when she ends up beating him at “Battleship”. This cute little exercise is mild in comparison to the next piece.

Chasing Daylight (2004) is one of the most perfect films I’ve seen in recent years. While a 20-minute short, it is full of complexity and maturity that shames most feature-length Hollywood weepers. It is also one of greatest movies made about childhood, and especially in the delicate matter of how children deal with death.

Dylan is a pre-teen whose best friend Amber is killed in a freak accident in a school bus. One of their favourite play areas was this site with wreckage of an old fighter plane. Dylan then begins building a model airplane as a way of dealing with her death, but also to metaphorically bring her back to the living present. In the final third of the film, Amber does return to the physical world, if only in his mind.

This film also features some of the most mature performances by kids in recent memory. The acting by Jason Dolley and Jillian Clare as Dylan and Amber, respectively, is flawless and incredibly mature. Chasing Daylight is also remarkable in finding that perfect balance between reality and fantasy, so that the supernatural aspect is never pretentious or heavy-handed. The sense of mystery is retained, for this delicate film to work. The subtle performances, soft focus and warm colours make this film as dreamlike as a summer sunset.

Flyerman may have been the big break that made Jeff Stephenson “one to watch”, but Chasing Daylight solidifies his talent. On the face of this, this young director has a brilliant career ahead of him, and it will be exciting to see what he comes up with next.

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A slightly different version of this appeared in Vol. #1, Issue #18, “Discoveries”.. Mark Vistorino died suddenly in 2016, while travelling to Prague. He was 57 years old. Jason Tan had added in a Toronto Star article, that “around 2006, Vistorino gave up on the dream of achieving greater stardom and became content to go to rock concerts and events where he’d talk up the event and simply feed off the excitement.” Since this writing, Jeff Stephenson has directed two more features, Not Since You and Bank$tas. Jason Tan has amassed quite a few cinematography credits in film and television, including the Canadian features, Dirty Singles, Jackie Boy and Goalie.