Directors’ Statement

Five years ago, Georgie was working as the Night Shift Supervisor in the kitchen of a Pennsylvania county prison, having left USC film school a few months earlier to return to his native Pennsylvania in search of humanistic stories, not Hollywood facsimiles of real peoples’ lives. One night, as the inmates were preparing the evening meal, one of the more animated ones discovered Georgie was a filmmaker. Tossing hot dogs on trays, he said, “You make movies, man? That’s cool shit. You wanna a make a kick-ass movie, man, go to Centralia, man. That place is fucked up, man.”

At the time, Centralia was little more than a novelty to us. Growing up on the east coast, we had heard rumors of a burning town atop an unstoppable mine fire, but that was the extent of our knowledge on the subject. That night we discussed our marginal recollections of Centralia and did some research online, unearthing a treasure trove of compelling photographs. Billowing smoke, cracked highways, petrified trees, Centralia looked like hell on earth. Anecdotal tourist accounts and touching testimonials by former residents only intensified our burgeoning interest.

As we continued our research, we happened upon a Centralia-themed message board and found the posts by a mysterious man with the handle “Coalcracker” to be particularly intriguing. Articulate and passionate, he was the most vocal of the 18 remaining residents determined to sway the opinions of those who dared argue that they were foolishly endangering themselves. Instantly drawn to his unwavering convictions, we tracked him down and set up a meeting.

Most current Centralians were old and chose to stay because starting over at that late stage of life was too much work, so we fully expected “Coalcracker” to be a stodgy curmudgeon in his 70’s like the rest. When we pulled up to his home, the only one left on the block, we were shocked to be greeted by John, a personable 33 year-old. We couldn’t help but wonder why someone so young, someone with so many options, would choose to live in the remnants of a dying town with no one his own age.

John walked us around town pointing out in great detail what homes and businesses used to line the now-empty streets and then returned to his home. We got back in the car and sat silent for a moment. We turned to each other and shared a glance. It was obvious, we knew we had to do this. We weren’t sure exactly what it was, we just knew a beautiful story was lurking “in the charred remains of a town that was.”

Limited by resources, we filmed on and off for the next four years. We spent most of our time with John, wallflowering him as he religiously maintained an essentially abandoned town for nobody to see. To give context to the story, we interviewed historians, environmentalists, former residents, politicians, mine foremen, geographic scholars—anyone who could lend greater insight. As we delved deeper into the subject we discovered John was not simply an eccentric who refuses to accept the death of his hometown, but rather a case study in the pathology of an entire region mired in decline.

One night, after the film was complete, we were discussing what we thought John was doing at that very moment, and Chris said, “Probably thinking about the future of Centralia.” Later that evening, we watched the film again and it brought tears to our eyes. Anyone so passionate and committed to something they hold dear deserves to have a light shine down upon them. We’re proud that we were able to focus that light, and bring to life the story of a man dedicated to saving something he believes in. To us, misguided or not, that’s as noble a life as any.

~ Georgie Roland & Chris Perkel, September, 2006