Addis Williams--retired Broadway puppeteer and bohemian buddha--could singlehandedly banish anyone's existential blues.
Wise, witty, and utterly unwilling to bend to stereotypes that typically dominate the narrative of a 70-something man living alone in New York City, Williams--in both his professional and personal lives--is straight-up inspiring.
His career has spanned more than six decades--he began puppeteering as a young child in vaudeville--and his resume boasts a tantalizing array of artists, actors, singers, and activists.
Williams also fought on the front-lines of the AIDS crisis when it broke in the '80s, volunteering with infected incarcerated prisoners, and working alongside St. Vincent's hospital (now closed) in their dogged efforts to combat a deluge of sickness and sorrow that no one properly understood yet.
In short, his life and convictions are enviable by any standard, but particularly by the artist's creed; you'll find nothing "starving" or melancholy anywhere in sight, metaphysical or otherwise.
Quietly ensconced in his rent-controlled apartment in Greenwich Village--which he's occupied since the '70s--Williams' home is a teeming testament to a life not just well-lived, but savored and celebrated. Despite intense loss and the ever-growing shadow of his mortal coil.
It's a proper wonderland of memorabilia; his collection of exquisite marionettes--many hand-carved by his own hand--peer out from shelves and sway from the ceiling. Photographs of Broadway shows, television gigs, friends, lovers, and colleagues line the walls.
His Louisiana accent-laden laughter echoes against the walls and down his hall onto the streets of Manhattan, a city he vows is second-to-none and one he'll never leave.
No matter who's pulling the strings.
This documentary was made by Rossella Laeng and Katie Tandy in collaboration with The Establishment, a multimedia site funded and run by women, poised to launch this October.