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The
Century Plaza
"expressionistic and compassionate." - LOS ANGELES
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Recent
Press
Willamette
Week (6/21/06): It's the type of place you've walked past a
million times but probably never thought much about: the Century Plaza,
a decrepit single-room-occupancy hotel, half a step up from rock
bottom. Even if you have wondered about the place, the stories of the
people who live there are bound to surprise and move you. In this
compelling and stylish documentary about a hard-luck hotel,
writer-director Eric Lahey interviews and observes residents and
employees to dig beneath the hotel's surface. There are hookers,
addicts, long-suffering desk clerks, disgusted maids. There's Mr
Friedman, the old man who calmly mumbles threats of violence to who
knows who: "Meat cleaver in one hand, .44 in the other...I just bide my
time." There's the heartbreakingly self-aware sex-offender terrified of
making another mistake. And there's Rico the cat, beloved patron saint
of the hotel. The film shows people struggling to carve out a life for
themselves, however grim their surroundings.
Director's
Statement
When most people walk their familiar
paths each day, they travel from point A to point B, never connecting
with those around them. The buildings and landmarks they pass are the
only constants. Everything else is a blur. Arthur Libin said it well,
"The homeless have always been pretty much irrelevant; they are like
characters in play." A character is something you see on television,
read in a book, watch on a stage. We like to experience characters
because it is easy: they evoke an emotion, and then we go home and
forget about them.
My hope is that my film lingers just a few moments
longer. Long enough for people to look at their own world and check out
a perspective not often seen on our familiar paths.
Synopsis
Built at the turn of the twentieth century, the Century Plaza was at
one time as elegant as it was esteemed. Indeed, businessmen, and those
simply passing through the city, made a point to patronize this
five-story complex sandwiched in the heart of industrial Portland.
Sadly, as the century gave way to the development of high-rise and
commercial lodging, the Plaza began a downward spiral into the shadow
of its towering competition. By the 1960's, the future of the plaza
appeared as bleak as that of the nomads and vagabonds who had come to
inhabit it: A decaying remnant of the past in which to conceal the
likewise inferior members of society.
Rico the Cat
Through Rico the cat, the only enduring resident of
the hotel, the untold stories of this nebulous culture slowly unfold as
he wanders his urban enclave.
Bob, a convicted pedophiliac on parole, resides in
a cramped room of the plaza. Struggling fruitlessly to find more
suitable housing, his throne is a dirty mattress and his only source of
entertainment a television alight with 1970s technology. A rusted sink
substitutes for a toilet in the corner; his four walls represent more
an early prison than home. On the other side of the chicken-wire laced
window, and not ten feet away, squats a family of three; Manuel, Chaz,
and Devon. Devon is a five year-old boy who spends his time playing
alone, while his father Manuel recovers from ear surgery. Should an
argument erupt between the two, Bob will inadvertently hear every word,
as conversations criss-cross in the light well between apartments.
Privacy is a commodity not afforded to these tenants.
Other residents of the Century Plaza include a
prostitute, a stripper, an alcoholic, a poet, and a recluse. For some,
it is a meeting place, a safe haven for the exchange or abuse of
illicit drugs; for others it signifies a luxurious break from the
streets and a heated room and bed. Quality is of little importance.
Although the conditions may seem appalling to the general population,
the patrons are concerned with more important matters than their
standard of living. The plaza affords refuge and survival.
Stories unravel by those gripped with mental
illness, drug addiction, and disease. Through spontaneous
conversations, their captivating tales and diverse personalities will
draw your attention, and engross you in their private world. Their
contentment with simple pleasures is remarkably humbling. The Century
Plaza shows us that there are myriad ways to be, and personalities that
are, homeless. Homelessness is not a title and should not be treated as
one. Similar to the word homosexual, or Christian, homeless is thrown
around as if it encompassed everyone who identifies with the title. The
Century Plaza illustrates how truly complex such a title can be.
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