There’s just something about live music, you know?

One of the special screenings at this year’s New York Film Festival, I was excited to buy tickets to Cameron Winter at Carnegie Hall, a rare concert film shown at a prestigious film festival. Of course, only a contemporary legend such as Paul Thomas Anderson could pull off such a feat, turning the cavernous Carnegie Hall venue and turning it into something resembling a coffeehouse performance, with Geese singer Cameron Winter behind the keys.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought since the film poster has Cameron Winter solitary at a piano, it was going to be over an hour of piano playing. Which is fine by me–I played piano for many years growing up, so I was excited for that. But then I saw the microphone and realized this wasn’t going to be about hearing pretty notes. This was going to be a different kind of night.

Cameron Winter’s performance is full of his long, drawn-out voice that soars and flutters when it’s right. He’s positioned onstage so his back is towards the audience, but you can tell he’s talking with everyone at Carnegie through his music. His lyrics are hard to make out at certain points, but it’s the emotion that matters. As the show goes on, I started to understand more of why Paul Thomas Anderson wanted to record this performance.

If you look back at PTA’s filmography, you find a lot of stories about outsiders trying to find a community they belong to. In Boogie Nights, you find pornstars forming a found family as the industry changes around them. In Phantom Thread, you find a high maintenance fashion designer who’s tough barriers come falling down when he marries a demure waitress. In Licorice Pizza, you find two young people in a lopsided relationship coming to realize where they fit in the 1970s San Fernando Valley. In One Battle After Another, you find an ex-revolutionary teaming up with old comrades to rescue his daughter.

Basically, PTA knows what it means to find solace in a community that all speaks the same language. I was reminded of a performance my dad and I went to in Ojai, CA. Rufus Wainwright was playing, and both of us were novices when it came to his work. But once he started belting out notes in that small amphitheater, we were completely silent and entranced. Even though we couldn’t understand all the words, we could understand the emotion behind them. With Cameron Winter, I heard the pain reminiscing over childhood memories, his wavering faith, and his struggles with self-esteem in a cruel industry. PTA conveyed all of that and more, all on 35mm which makes this recording feel almost timeless.

PTA and his crew also make sure to incorporate enough diversity within the shots to make it count. As someone who works at community-access TV with limited resources, I was insanely jealous of the amount of shots PTA managed to get. Whether it’s from the balcony or on the stage itself with Winter, he made sure that just because we didn’t see this performance live, it doesn’t mean we couldn’t be there with him.

Cameron Winter at Carnegie Hall isn’t just a recording–it’s an experience. At a time where theater is mostly inaccessible to people who have a passion for live performances, live recordings for the cinema are one way we can make sure that the arts are available for all. You may not understand every lyric, but you’ll hear every word.

FURTHER THOUGHTS

• I would hate to be that one person who was eating M&Ms during a quiet moment during this performance. I would simply disappear into my seat from embarassment.
• I wish we got more audience reaction shots, but I was glad with the one we got.
• PTA and Cameron Winter sound like the two introverted cousins that only meet at Christmas family dinners.