We go to the movies on a winter's day, in search of my first Hollywood "thank you" credit (one of two, thank you...). Like in a Seinfeld episode, you can hear the usher try to bust me for shooting a bootleg (must be my Russian heritage). This poor old budget cinema in Boulder couldn't even get the marquee spelling right. Prophetic, indeed.

No one loved going to an afternoon matinee more than Stan - he saw EVERY movie in town. And was the MOST generous of critics. Unless the film got too 'arty.' That would ruffle his feathers a bit...

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