If you don’t see how a documentary about a large, bearded street philosopher taking care of a mysterious flock of wild parrots in the middle of San Francisco isn’t fascinating, well, then, I don’t know what to tell you. If you are looking for the perfect date movie, this is it. (A big score for last night’s Valentine’s treat, where I had Ann keep her eyes closed as she entered the theater so she wouldn’t know what she was seeing until the picture started.) I was a little sad at the end, though, when the Big Man had to leave. . .I don’t see why he couldn’t’ve at least kept Mingus in a cage. Also, great to know there are people out there who aren’t “working” in the common, American sense, but are very much serving a community need and are supported by that community. There’s far too little of this in the world and this is a world, particularly a country, that can afford it. I’d like to visit Telegraph Hill — I used to spend some time in Woodstock, NY with an insider’s crowd and the vibe — long gray hair and instrumental guitar music, basically — is similar. The music in this film, awful in a vaccum, is perfectly suited. A great little movie. And — hats off for shooting a low budget documentary on film! I’m glad Judy Irving didn’t get the memo that 16mm was dead! Long live 16mm! Also up for discussion: did Connor commit suicide?