These guys reminded me of the 'better men' from my mediterranean side of the family. If you enjoyed Zorba the Greek, Lion of the Desert and Scorcese street gangster films simultaneously (or you're a woman who has a thing for Anthony Quinn-like men), instead of the Costnerian didactic (my word for plain white bread actors that come out of the military industrial complex to serve some 1940's version of cowboy america), you'll love the Projectionist.

Filled with little Pacino-types that talk with accents and have unique facial tick and lanky Ferraras wanking around Little Italy and Palestinian neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Astoria talking about the good old days of porn theaters on 42nd street.

The last film I saw at Cinema Village before Hurricane Sandy made Los Angeles a better idea (before these damn wild fires), was The Master with Philip Seymore Hoffman & Joaquin Pheonix. A great little film at the time that was only playing at the arthouse theater. Cinema Village. Well -- I come to find out, howdy friggan doo, its owned by the protagonist of this documentary. As a a matter of fact, this whole documentary is about him. It's not about Anthony Quinn although, spoiler, [spoiler]you will feel by the end that this guy who owns all the little theaters in tri-state, is the last real New Yorker. The kind that lived off "heart movies", like he referred to Last Tango in Paris lines around the porn theater block back in 82. You're going to leave this film wishing you had real people in your life that made movie theaters for a living. I want this man to adopt me.[/spoiler]